


A Future Broken

by TheWerdna



Series: Fire Emblem A Future (Series) [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, F/M, Post canon, post grima
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 66,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWerdna/pseuds/TheWerdna
Summary: Almost a year has passed since Robin's return. The realm is at peace' giving him and Lucina plenty of time to deal with the trials of new parenthood. But a threat lurks in the shadows between worlds, watching and waiting. When their home is invaded by phantom soldiers, can Robin and Lucina save the bright future they fought so hard to earn? Sequel to A Future Disowned.





	1. Serenity

Robin's eyes jerked open as a baby's crying filled the air. Bolting upright in his chair he saw that the culprit was Morgan, the newborn bawling her eyes out from within her crib. An instant later Marc began to wail at the top of his lungs, woken up by the screaming of his twin sister.

"Lucina," Robin groaned, rubbing his eyes. Staggering forward he went to pick up the two children, cooing softly to calm them. In the chair next to him Lucina stirred, raising her head groggily. Dark rings surrounded her eyes, her hair a matted mess. Not that he looked any less ragged. Afterall, _neither_ of them had gotten more than a couple hours of sleep a night for, gods, what had to be almost a month now. Being kept wide awake caring for the two infants around the clock would tend to do that.

"Here, they're probably hungry again," Lucina slurred, taking the two children off Robin's hands.

Sighing in thanks, Robin ran a hand through the tangled mess that was his hair and slumped back into his chair. Sun streamed in through the window, the morning having arrived some time ago. Last he remembered the sun had just been peeking out over the horizon. He and Lucina must have dozed off, maybe an hour ago.

"I'll get us some tea," Robin murmured, standing.

"Alright," Lucina affirmed, too exhausted to say more.

Stooping he kissed Lucina on the forehead, then turned to go, leaving his wife to feed the squirming infants.

Heading down the hall he made his way to the dining hall, figuring that breakfast had already been laid out some time ago. Sure enough a wide assortment of food had been spread out over the long table. At the far end he spied Sumia seated in one of the chairs. She did not seem to notice him at first, her attention focused on slowly pouring herself a cup of tea. Giving her tendency to trip up or otherwise fumble, it was probably for the best she was taking her time.

"Oh, hi Robin," Sumia greeted, smiling cheerfully. The Ylissian queen hummed to herself as she added cream and sugar to her steaming teacup.

"Gaaaaaah," Robin moaned, staggering over to the table. He at once began fumbling for the tea cups, nearly knocking over one of the saucers of milk.

"Woah, that bad, huh?" Sumia "I take it the little ones have been keeping you up at night? Either that or you've been turned into a slightly healthier looking Risen. Grunt once if you're alive, twice if you're undead."

Robin grunted three times, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips despite how damn tired he felt.

"Ah, that _completely_ explains it then." Sumia rolled her eyes, though her expression and tone remained as chipper as ever. "You and Lucina really have been looking rather down in the dumps the past couple days. Parenthood harder than you thought?"

"Everything I read before hand said it would be difficult, but this…" He trailed off, giving an almost insane laugh. "Give me a thousand battles to plan in a week and I'd take it in a heartbeat."

Sumia laughed at that. "You're telling me. Lucina was just as bad for the month before the Valm war broke out. Not that Cynthia's been any better. Chrom's watching her right now. Her older self's been a huge help too."

"Heh, I wish Morgan and Marc could pitch in more, but they've been busy with the Shepherds. Morgan particularly, being the new tactician and all," Robin said, referring to the twin's older, time traveling counterparts.

"How is Morgan doing, by the way?" Sumia asked.

"Better, all things considered. I thinking being in charge of the Shepherds is giving her something to keep her mind off Inigo leaving," Robin replied. He sighed running his hands over his face. "As much as part of me _**would**_ like her help, this is probably better than her."

"Well, if you want I'd be happy to take the them off your hands for a day or two. I've seen you and Lucy: the two of you look like you could really use a break," Sumia offered.

"No, I couldn't. You already have enough of a handful with a newborn of your own. It wouldn't be fair," Robin argued quickly. Turning back to the table he poured two cups of tea for himself and Lucina.

The sound of heavy footsteps marked the approach of Chrom, a bundle of cloth and blue hair cradled in his arms. "Morning Robin," the Exalt greeted, stopping to kiss his wife before turning to the tactician proper.

"Morning," Robin mumbled in kind, his voice devolving into little more than grumble by the end of the word.

"Oh, that bad, huh?" Chrom asked, mirroring his wife's earlier comment.

"Yeah. Seems like he and Lucy have been up most of the night," Sumia answered for him, taking her infant daughter from her husband's arms. By comparison to Robin's own children, little Cynthia seem remarkably well behaved. "I was actually just offering to watch the little ones for a day or two so they could get some proper rest."

"Hmm," Chrom grunted, eyeing Robin up and down. "Yeah, I can see why that would be needed. I take it he refused?"

"I just couldn't. It's our responsibility and-" Robin started to argue, though was silenced by a Chrom's raised hand.

"Robin, am I going to have to order you as Exalt to take a break, or will you be reasonable this time? As your friend and as Lucina's father, I am going to have to insist on this one. You do need the rest," Chrom said, his voice stern.

"But what about my other duties here?" Robin countered, grasping for some argument he could use to justify refusing the offer.

"You mean the same tactician duties that have kept Morgan and Marc from helping out with the little ones?" Chrom countered, crossing his arms as he gave Robin a flat stare.

Darn, he had him there. He didn't exactly have any real work to be done. He'd made sure of that so he could focus his attention to caring for the newborns.

"But…" Robin started to argue again, regardless of how badly he was losing.

"It's really not any if things get to be too much of a handful we can always get one of maids to help us," Chrom interjected. A knowing smile tugged at the edges of his lips. "Besides, I am sure Sumia would be besides herself at the chance to spend some time with our grandchildren."

"Would I? Is that even a question?" Sumia exclaimed. She bobbed her head, looking as though she was having to keep herself from bouncing up and down in excitement. "I haven't really gotten a chance to be a grandmother yet. I mean, for the little ones. I've spent plenty of time with the older two, but it's not the same, you know?" She gave Robin a pleading, puppy dog-like look.

Robin opened his mouth to argue, then stopped himself, exhaling his breath in a defeated sigh. "Right… a tactician has to know when he's defeated. I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

"Nope," Chrom answered, grinning. He turned to Sumia. "See, he is learning."

"I never said he wasn't," Sumia said, smiling too. Her smile however still seemed more as one of excitement than anything else.

"If anything it's that you two have learned how to get under my skin," Robin said, sighing a second time. "Pulling the Exalt card and guilting me into it…" he added, grumbling.

"So it's a deal then?" Chrom asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Robin waved a hand in weary surrender. "You're right too, I suppose. At this rate Lucina and I are going to drop dead at any moment."

"Good, good," Chrom said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "In that case we'll start looking after them for you this evening so you two can get a good night's rest. That's an order."

"Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time," Robin said, holding his hands up with palms out in surrender. Sighing wearily he scooped up his and Lucina's teacups then turned to leave. "I'll let Lucina know you're giving us the next day or two off. See how she want's to spend it." With that he headed out of the dining hall, Sumia waving cheerily as he left.

Ascending the stairs that led to the room where his wife was undoubtedly waiting for him, Robin could not help but be torn in regards to the unexpected turn of events. On one hand he and Lucina really did need time to relax and recharge before they were completely broken down. Chrom and Sumia were right in that regard. Yet he could not help but worry that something might happen while he and Lucina were absent, and that terrified him. He guessed Lucina would feel much the same.

_Stop being stupid, Robin. You can trust Chrom and Sumia to take good care of the twins. We are at peace with no wars or fell dragons around to muck that up. So relax and take a well deserved break._

Forcing a smile onto his lips, Robin mounted the last few steps and went to tell Lucina the news.

. . . . .

The sound of leaves waving in the wind and the rustle of the swaying grass filled the air, mixing with the sweet music of a stream bubbling away from where it ran alongside the the quiet country road. The song was joined by the chirping of the birds that flittered among the branches overhead in search of the the insects that dwelt there. Overhead the sun shone down, high and warm, but not uncomfortably so, balanced by the cool breeze that blew over the rolling Ylissian countryside.

Robin and Lucina walked in silence, not wanting to spoil the pleasant calm. Besides, words were not needed between them when merely being in each other's presence and the touch of their intertwined hands were enough. The soft crunch of their boots in the dirt and the rustle of their clothes rippling in the breeze too added their own notes to the music of the world around them.

After some discussion the night before, the two of them decided to spend the next couple days traveling outside the capital to one of the smaller towns further sound. While in part the decision had been made to give them a change of pace from being cooped up inside the castle all day, it had also been decided so they would not be tempted to go back on their agreed upon vacation. If they were still in the city Robin had feared he would end up insisting on cutting it short to resume looking after the little ones. Not that their choice was a chore by any means: being able to spend time to themselves away from it all was truly a blessing

Which was why they'd decided to take the scenic route away from the more traveled roads. While it would add a couple hours to the journey, being able to take a relaxing walk through the peaceful countryside together more than made up for it in his book.

They had been going for sometime before Robin glanced to his wife. A good night's rest had already done wonders for her. No longer could dark bags be seen hanging under her eyelids, and her skin had returned to it's usual hue. Even her hair seemed brighter and more lustrous than it had the days before. However it was a glimpse of her expression that gave him pause. While she was smiling, there was a hint of worry. Her smile didn't spread all the way to her eyes, whose gaze seemed slightly removed from the waking world.

"Worried?" Robin asked, broaching the silence.

Lucina dipped her head in a nod. "I know it's foolish to worry so. My father and mother will do a fine job: finer perhaps than we have been doing. But still, I cannot help but feel like we are being selfish for not being there to look after them, even with the insistence that we relax for the time."

"I know how you feel, but they are right you know. We _**do**_ need a break," Robin agreed. "Besides, what's this about your parents doing a better job of taking care of them? I don't think we were doing _**that**_ terrible a job."

"I did not mean to say we were, just that both of them have far more experience. They make it look easy," Lucina corrected. "In comparison we were such a mess as a result of our efforts, where we not?"

"Which is why we need this break, at the rate things were going it was only a matter of time before our exhaustion made us more of a danger. I realized that this morning once I was rested enough to think clearly," Robin replied.

"I know, I'm just… this is the first time I've been apart from Morgan and Marc since they were born. I can't help but worry and miss them," Lucina admitted, her shoulders slumping if ever so slightly. She looked back over her shoulder, where miles away their newborn children were in the care of their grandparents.

"And you wouldn't be as wonderful a mother are you are if you didn't feel that way, just as I would be a poor father if I didn't," Robin reassured her, squeezing her hand a bit tighter. "The best we can do now is to enjoy ourselves so we are refreshed and at one-hundred and ten percent when we return to them."

Lucina slowed her pace a bit as she moved a bit closer, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I know. But I suppose it is a mother's duty to worry. Still, I still fully intend to make the most of and enjoy our time alone together."

"Good to hear," Robin murmured, pressing his face into her hair to give a quick kiss on the top if her head. "Just remember that it'll only be a few days. It's not like we're just abandoning them somewhere to grow up on their own," Robin joked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"We'd have to be quite the terrible parents to even think of doing such a thing, regardless of the circumstances," Lucina laughed, her eyes brightening. She smiled, this one more full than the one she'd worn but minutes before. "Thank you, Robin, even if I can not keep from worrying, you have nonetheless lightened my heart."

"It's not a problem. I'd even say it's in my job description at this point, having married you and all." He smiled back at her, then turned his eyes to the wide countryside that stretched out before them. "We still have a ways to go before we reach town. Shall we?"

With that the two resumed their previous pace. Even though they could not fully escape from worry, they could instead focus on enjoying eachother's company and the tranquil peace of their stroll. For that moment they could feel content, know that the hard fought peace and happiness lay before them. And that was something they would never let go of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Future Broken is a 13 chapter fanfiction I wrote back in 2016 following up after the events of A Future Disowned that I wrote back on Fanfiction.net. I figured it was about time I begin posting my work over here on AO3 as well. I plan on posting a chapter here once per day until everything is all caught up with my work on fanfic, at which point chapters will be posted simultaneously.
> 
> Thank you, and I hope everyone enjoys.


	2. Serenity

Morgan shivered, hunching her shoulders against the freezing wind that blew through the darkened courtyard. Overhead stars twinkled in the moonless sky, the world around a sea black but for the the light streaming in from the open arch behind.

Across from her stood Inigo, clad in his travel clothes. Some distance behind waited Owain and Severa, likewise adorned for tracking through the countryside. The two each carried a leather pack ladened with supplies, with a third resting at their feet.

The wind howled, rustling the leafless branches overhead, the only sound in the cold, winter night.

"Why do you have to leave? Why now of all things?" Morgan asked, broaching the silence.

"I wish I could say but... We made a promise. We wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't important," Inigo answered sadly, shaking his head.

Silent fell over them one more, a minute passing before Morgan spoke up again.

"I suppose you can't even tell me where you are going then?"

"No."

Morgan gave a bitter laugh and shook her head. "Thought so." "You could have at least given me more warning. Why did this have to be so sudden?" She shot him a questioning look. For indeed, this had come out of nowhere. Both her boyfriend and the other two had only begun to act strangely early that morning. As Morgan had discovered, they'd been preparing in secret to depart, a fact that had been kept hidden from her until only an hour before.

"We didn't even know we were leaving before today. And we didn't want to make a show of this. Better to slip out quietly, he answered softly.

"You could have told me," Morgan countered, unable to keep to hurt from voice. "Don't you think I had the right to know?"

"We were afraid you would try to stop us or let it out what was happening. I trust you, but-"

"Doesn't sound like it," Morgan interrupted, perhaps a bit more harshly than she's intended. Or maybe it wasn't harsh enough given the circumstances. Trusting her meant letting her know these things, to have faith she would respect what he was going to do and keep his secrets. And he hadn't done any of that.

"Morgan, that's not fair. I do trust you. But it wasn't just my call to make," Inigo said, his eyes pleading with her.

"Then tell me why you have to go," Morgan told him

For a moment Inigo said nothing, guilt and indecision both shown in equal measure. Then he sighed sadly and lowered his gaze. "... I can't do that," he said softly, his words cutting Morgan as deeply as a knife could have.

Silence fell over the two, so that only the creaking of branches and the whistle of air passing over the castle walls could be heard. From inside the palace the flickering light of torches shone out from many windows and doorways, casting a faint, ever shifting glow over the scene. Shadows danced and fades, giving an almost ghostly unreality to the world

Morgan shivered as another icy gust swirled through the courtyard. She pulled her coat tighter, wishing desperately that she was inside, in her bed, and not here.

"Why can't you tell me?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's... complicated. I want to tell you, but... we made a promise, to keep the reason a among those going," Inigo answered. Even in the dim light she could make out the pained, guilty look in his gray eyes.

"Then I can come with you. I can help, Morgan countered, speaking louder now.

"Morgan, no, you can't. I wish it was different but-"

"Why? Do you want to just leave me here? I bet that's it, you big, stupid, mean, philandering, stupid, lying, stupid,..." she trailed off, muttering the rest of her tirade. She crossed her arms and looked away, unable to bring herself to look at his big, dumb, jerk face.

"Morgan, you know why you can't..." Inigo said gently. Morgan felt a hand touch her arm, which she immediately jerked away from, giving her so-called boyfriend an indignant huff.

"Morgan, come on, look at me," Inigo asked, his voice softer now.

Morgan did not move, refusing to even acknowledge that she'd heard him.

"Please, Morgan," Inigo repeated, pleading with her now. He sounded almost... hopeless, resigned to the fact that what he was doing was painful, not yet to her but to himself as well.

Slowly Morgan looked up, meeting his gaze. For a long moment she said nothing and when at last her words came they were but a whisper. "Why can't I come?"

"Because you're needed here. You're already basically running the Shepherds at this point, and once your and Marc's younger selves are born you will be needed to take on more responsibilities your father had, remember?" Inigo replied.

Morgan nodded but otherwise again nothing

"Besides, you don't want to be gone when they're born right? It's not every day you get to see yourself as an infant," he continued, giving her a small, sad smile. "I don't want to be the one to drag you away when your family needs you here."

"But you're-" Morgan started to retort only to cut herself short, unable to bring herself to utter those words. _...basically family at this point_ , she finished silently. Even thinking them was too painful, knowing in her heart that nothing she could say or do would change the fact that he was leaving.

"I... I understand. You're right, I can't just leave everyone now," Morgan said at length. She sniffed, though if it was from sadness or merely the cold she did not know.

"It won't be too long, I promise. We'll be back as soon as you know it," Inigo assured her. He places his hand on her arm again. This time Morgan did not pull away.

For a long while the two stood there, the wind whistling around them. Then Inigo half turned, looking to where the others were waiting. "Well we better be off, before anyone else notices us. I don't want to turn this into a bigger ordeal for everyone."

Morgan nodded, placing her hand on top of his. The she let it slip away, her arm falling to her side and she looked away. Part of her wanted to say more, but... what was there really left to say?

"Goodbye," Inigo told her. He opened his mouth as if to say something more, then closed it again. He lingered there for another moment, as if waiting for something. Then, when it was clear no response was forthcoming, he turned away.

At once guilt welled up in Morgan's heart, a voice urging her to call out to him. To say something, anything. Yet try as she might she could not bring herself to do it. For if she did she would have to admit to herself how much she cared about him and how much she hurt. To say goodbye would mean admitting he was really leaving. That this wasn't just a bad dream she'd wake up from.

Inigo reached the spot Owain and Severa waited out of earshot. Slinging his bag over his shoulder he looked back over his shoulder. For a moment he just stood there, looking sadly back at her. Then he turned away and together the three slipped out into the night.

Another gust of wind tore through the courtyard, the branches of the bare trees creaking in the wind. Yet Morgan felt nothing, the cold no longer seeming as preset or real as it once had.

"Goodbye," Morgan whispered, the words coming far too late for anyone but herself to hear them.

So she stood there in the cold, dead night. Even the stars overhead seemed further than they once had, their crystalline light made of ice. Cold and distant... a fitting backdrop to her own heart. The wind rushed by her, rippling her coat before passing into the dark, lonely night, bringing with it what felt like a little peace of her happiness.

. . . . .

Slowly the scene in the courtyard grew hazy, the image contained in the smoky sphere of water pulling back as it faded completely.

_Next._

A translucent hand ringed in devouring shadow passed through the liquid orb, scattering it into a thousand droplets. They hissed and turned to mist, lingering in a shifting veil of vapor. The hand appeared again, stirring the cloud of fog. It swirled, pulling into an ever tighter vortex before finally coalescing into water once more. The inky liquid shone a cold, dark violet, turning clear as the light faded.

From inside an image of a colossal tree, it's roots spreading out for a mile under its vast trunk...

... _The three travelers scrambled up the great roots. Neither awe nor wonder graced their features as they looked up at the high canopy above. They'd been there before._

_A voice spoke, its words soft and gentle. It asked if they were ready._

_A figure, clothed in robes of white and sky gray appeared before them. He did not visibly warp or otherwise arrive there: merely it seemed he had always been there, unnoticed by the three._

_Questions were asked and answers were given. A world in peril, one they could help save._

_The choice was their' she said. Well, there was really no choice. They would not turn their backs on those in need..._

...the shadowed hand shot out towards the orb, stopping an inch from it's surface. The liquid rippled, deformed by an unseen force. When it stilled the vision had changed, revealing the flash of steel and tumult of battle. Orange flames burned on the tree's roots, smoke rising into the sky...

_...The trio stood back to back, swords in their hands as they battled against a horde of foes who could not be seen as those who walk the living world. Distortion a they seemed, blurs and ripples on the air taken human shape and cloaked in a flame that seemed to suck the surrounding light into its void._

_Yet even these foes could not hope to stand against the three. They've been through worse, survived in a future of terrors beyond these phantoms. That's why they were here, was is not? Why their help had been sought._

_Together the broke the enemy line, striking then down to the last. Soon they and the robes figure were alone amongst the smoldering embers of the extinguished flames._

_The man spoke again, pleading once more for their aid and making promises of his own. Could he really do it? Could he really right the desolation of their true home?_

_And what would they do now, when all was done? Could they bare to return there now, even if it meant leaving them all behind?_

_But for now they were beckoned on, to go with the robed man to where the truth could be laid bare..._

Again the water was scattered, reshaping to reveal a new scene of broken islands in a hazy brown sky.

_...The three travelers from another world stood together, cutting down of the ghostly soldiers who dared approach. They were clad in new clothes, more in the style of the western kingdoms of world they'd come to rather than of their own land._

_Yet even as they fought and won it could be seen that a toll was being taken. Their movements began to slow, their attacks less precise. With it their defenses dropped, their foes managing to score minor wounds._

_Though still they fought, even as more came on..._

... The scene ripped and shifted, showing them some time later, ragged and gasping for air...

_...They raised their weapons to face the gathering horde phantom foes. Yet even as they stood there defiant they did so with slumped shoulders and bent backs, hands trembling from exhaustion._

_The robed man stood before then, telling them to abandon the fight, that he had a new task for them. With reluctance they accepted, vanishing in a twinkle of light as the man turned to face the invisible army alone..._

_..._ The image followed the three as they appeared in the middle of a craggy plain under a starlit sky. In the distance a city of black stone flowed orange-red, like a void against the night sky.

Starting over the shadowed figure replayed the scenes again and again, watching intently as the events played out.

Why was it that these three were chosen above all others? Skill and experience they had indeed, but those traits could be found in others, even from their companions from the world they came. Was it the hand they played in Grima's destruction? No, even then there was nothing to set them apart from the others.

Or was it perhaps that they did not matter? That their world would not miss them if they never returned?

With a wave of a hand the water went clear, losing it's shape as it sunk down into the murky pool that stood at the figure's feet.

Turning away he crossed the cavernous chamber, his footfalls making not even a sound on the stone floor.

A chuckle echoed through the darkness, an unseen smile spreading across the figure's shrouded face. As much of an disruption as the three had caused, they had done little but to destroy the physical forms of the some spirits under his dominion, which he could replace with trivial effort. Through his puppet he would ensure his other half's champions would remain isolated from the one they were tasked to protect, and with his curse in place they would not be able to interfere with his plans or warn those who might stand against him.

Even his daughter's betrayal did not matter, not when it had brought the final destruction of his meddling counterpart. This had all be a mere destruction in the end, nothing more. Useless. Utterly useless, just like all other attempts to defy him...

Yet...

He found his mind drawn back to the world the meddler had visited, the one of its timelines in a sea of what if's that had been spared from the Fell Dragon's shadow. Mere annoyances as they had been, the three warriors had proven far more formidable than he would have expected. What then of the others of their world? What of the ruler wielding the awakened Falchion, the time traveling princess of exalted blood, the tactician who once was Grima's vessel, or even the daughter of Naga? They as well as others could prove far more hindersome should they get involved.

And even if their world would not miss the three warriors, was it possible that they would still go looking for their absent friends?

This was a possibility he could not ignore. Nor could he ignore how it would serve as a fitting punishment for his counterpart's champions. For their interference he would see that their world was put to the flame.

Raising his hand the figure summoned up an orb of water from across the chamber. It glowed with a pale light, revealing a castle rising over a white city, gleaming in the sun.

_Soon..._

Laughter filled the chamber as the light was blotted out, plunging it into darkness


	3. Shattered Peace

Robin smiled, giving Lucina's hand a gentle squeeze. He reveled in the sensation of her skin touching his: the feeling of warmth and closeness he never tired of. Lucina smiled too, her eyes seeming to radiate joy as they sparkled in the morning sun.

The couple had arrived in the town of Haybrook the evening of the day they'd set out from Ylisse, two days ago now. Being one of the larger towns in Ylisse, they had found plenty to occupy themselves, having spent the previous day about town browsing the various shops that lined the cobbled streets. Robin had picked a new book that chronicled the wars of the past few hundred years to give to Morgan and Marc as a gift, while Lucina ended up buying baby clothes for the twins' younger selves. Rounding the day off with a meal in a local restaurant and a long night of sleep, the two had woken up refreshed like they hadn't felt in a long while.

While they'd need to begin the trip home soon, Robin had suggested they take a look at a few shops they'd missed before setting, an idea Lucina had not objected to. So they'd checked out of the inn and after a lovely breakfast at a local cafe they made for the market at the center of the town.

They walked at a leisurely pace, holding hands as they went and enjoying each other's company.

It was then that they noticed a commotion coming from the market center. A small group of villagers were crowded around one of the stalls, arguing loudly with one another.

"I wonder what's going on," Lucina wondered, staring at the crowd with obvious concern. At once Robin recognized what was worrying her: it was the fearful looks on several of the townsfolk wore. Something had them scared.

"Let's find out," Robin replied. They approached the crowd and soon enough they could make out the heated conversation that had been going on for some time.

"...If Jara here wasn't such a yellow-bellied coward we would have found out what's what by now," a burley, overweight man said, jabbing a finger at a black haired youth who couldn't have been older than half his age.

"Then you's go do it yourself, Berrek, if yer so brave. But you won't get me back there, not after what I seen, not even if you payed me."

"Worst you seen was a bear, more than likely," scoffed the same man who'd spoken before. "And I would, if not for my own buisness to attend here."

"Buisness my backside, chicken is more like," a third man cut in. "I'm with, Jara, a bear doesn't make a whole village up and disappear."

"So we haven't heard from them, who says they vanished?" another yelled. More yells joined in, speaking over one another

"Quit your shouting, Harold, talking over one-another will solve nothing," scolded an older, white haired man, silencing the rabble. Robin recognized the speaker as the owner of one of the stores they visited yesterday. "We've been over this, Harold, the traders ought have come through weeks ago. Or at the least someone should have come in through there by now."

"That doesn't mean-"

"Excuse my intruding, but what has happened? You mentioned something about a village vanishing?", Lucina interrupted, stepping into the crowd, Robin following his wife a step behind. "I do not mean to be so forward and get involved with the business of others, but if such a thing has occurred than I must insist on rendering aid."

The shopkeeper stared at her for a long moment then nodded. "Ah, you're those travelers in from Ylisstol, right? Aye, you heard right, though perhaps disappeared isn't accurate as can be. We rightly don't know what happened. The village we're speaking of is called Corgrove smack dab in the middle of the forest northeast of here, off the main road. Mostly hunters live there, isolated bunch. But usually traders come through from there every so often, but they are nearly a month overdue. Long enough for a few of us here to get worried, mostly those with family there. But I can't seem to find anyone brave enough to check up on them, and I am far too old to make the journey on my own.

 _Corgrove... that's not too far out of the way. It can't add more than an hour or two on our trip home_ , Robin mused. "Do you have any ideas what could have happened?"

"My worst fear would be brigands, but none can say. Some have seen things on the fringes if the woods as of late. People are mighty spooked," the old man replied.

"While we will not be able to report our findings in person, we would gladly check on them for you. Corgrove is not too far out of our way," Lucina offered.

"We will make sure to have word sent back from Ylisstol whatever we end up finding," Robin added.

"If it is really not too much trouble, it would ease my conscience mightily," shopkeeper thanked them, relief flooding over his features. This seemed to satisfy the others, who at once began to disperse.

Taking their leave, the two stepped aside, turning to one another.

"Looks like we'll be setting out earlier than we planned, huh?" Robin observed, speaking of what they just heard with the same tone he'd use to discuss the weather. He tried to grin, but failed, his lips locked in a worried frown. "Gods, I don't like this. Something feels off… like this is more than just brigands."

"Yes, I feel so too… but does that change anything?" Lucina asked.

"Of course not. I am just uneasy." Robin sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Well, let's get going then, we don't want to get caught out there when night comes."

"Yes," Lucina agreed, managing a small smile as they set off at once towards the road that led out of the town center.

However with each step he took Robin found he could not shake the feeling he had. _Why am I so worried? We don't even know what it could be yet._

. . . . .

Robin's boots crunched in dry brown leaves and brittle twigs that blanketed the forest trail, the sound echoing through the thick treeline. Next to him marched Lucina, the soft crinkle of her lighter footfalls seeming silent compared to his own. In that moment he dearly wished he made less noise: for with not even a bird or scurrying animal to be heard every sound he made seemed preternaturally loud.

Slowing his pace for a couple steps, he gazed up at the sea of darkened green above their heads. Even along such a road, wide enough to fit a cart, the thick canopy above plunged the world into an eternal twilight from which the noonday sun brought only the briefest of respites.

 _I don't like this. It's too quiet_ , Robin thought to himself. He frowned. No, it was not just the quiet that bothered him. He'd felt it since they'd passed the outskirts of the forest: a tense watchfulness that hung over the world like an old, musty blanket. It wasn't natural, of that he was almost certain, and he didn't care for it one bit.

 _Still, we've made good time._ It had only been a few hours since they set out, and a little over one since they entered the woods. At this rate they should reach the village soon, if memory of the many maps he'd seen of Ylisse held true. As a tactician he had made it his mission to memorize the whole of the nation's layout, and Corgrove sat near dead center of a path that should take no more than three or four hours to traverse. With luck they would be there within the-

_Crack_

In an instant both his and Lucina's hands shot to their weapons, steel ringing from sheaths as they whirled in the direction the sound had come from.

For a moment they stood utterly still, appearing as statues to any who would have looked into the scene. Robin dared not even breathe, every sense straining to pick out any sign of danger.

It had sounded like snap of wood, which from the loudness of it had to be the breaking of a fairly large branch. Of course it could be nothing unusual: just a limb damaged in a storm that finally had given way. Yet there was the feeling of unfriendly eyes tracking their movements since they moved past the forest's outer fringes. There was a menace to that sound, an unspoken threat.

Bushes rustled just out of sight, hidden by the thick treeline. Robin tensed, hearing a sharp, barely perceptible intake of breath next to him from Lucina. Peering into the shadowed undergrowth he thought, if only for an instant, that he could make out a dark shape passing between the trees. Then he blinked and it was gone.

Minutes ticked by as they held their position, neither letting their guard drop for even a moment. Then they began to move slowly, stepping back to back as they eyed the surrounding forest. Then the menace they'd felt seemed to withdraw, a great stifling weight seeming to lift from them. It however did not entirely vanish, feeling more as though the spying eyes had turned elsewhere for a time.

Lucina must have felt it at the same time he had, for in unison the two turned to look at each other to exchange glances.

"I'm thinking we don't want to stick around here any longer than we have to," Robin said, keeping his voice low, scarcely above a whisper.

"Yes, let us make haste to the village," Lucina agreed, dipping her chin in a sharp nod.

With that the two set off at a redoubled pace. Lucina kept her hand on Falchion's hilt, while Robin switched out his sword for a tome which he held at the ready. It was not long before the surrounding forest began to thin, signs of human inhabitation coming in the form of cleared underbrush and the occasional stump of a felled tree.

It was then that Robin caught of glimpse of buildings from between the trees. He slowed his pace, Lucina doing the same. Now cautiously they approach what could only be the village they had been looking for, more simple structures coming into sight as they rounded the bend in the road.

It was quiet, too quiet for an inhabited settlement this early in the day. Not a soul could be seen moving about the village. _Where was everyone?_

The couple came to halt, exchanging another glance. By unspoken agreement they crept forward, making as little sound as they may. Passing between the buildings Robin searched for any sign of violence or disaster that may have driven the villagers from their homes. But there was nothing, by all appearances it looked just like a normal town were it not for the fact it had appeared as though every man, woman, and child had vanished into thin air.

Or more likely...

_Snap._

There was a sudden rush of movement from all around then, the sound of bowstrings being pulled taut mixing with rapid footsteps and the rustle of movement. Spearpoints entered his vision, pointing but a foot from the spot where they stood.

At once Robin leapt into action, stepping halfway in front of Lucina and placing a hand on her wrist to prevent her from drawing her sword. Meanwhile he dropped his tome, holding his now empty hand up with his palm outwards.

Just as he'd guessed but a moment before, the people who had ambushed them were not bandits nor any other foe, but rather a grim and terrified looking group of villagers armed with hunting bows, a handful of spears, and an odd assortment of improvised weapons. They must have had someone listening for anyone coming down the road and had hidden before he and Lucina had spotted the settlement. What had happened to put the whole village on edge was anyone's guess, but it certainly was connected to the missing messengers.

Despite Robin's confidences that they _wouldn't_ be killed on the spot as long their own weapons remained sheathed, having a bunch of spears inches from your face isn't exactly the most soothing situation to find one's self in. Throw in a couple of bows aimed at you and the knowledge that people often did stupid, hasty things when scared, and you have the perfect recipe for making it very difficult to remain calm. So, really, no one could possibly blame him for doing what he usually did when nervous: he began to babble like an idiot.

"Hi there, nice day today. Sorry to drop in and startle you, we were just- oh gods, please don't kill us. We're completely harmless and I am friends with the exalt so I am very trustworthy, and I-" Robin fell silent with an audible gulp, catching himself. _Smooth, Robin, very smooth._

Fortunately by this point Lucina had caught onto the situation. Pulling Robin behind her, she took a half step forward, holding both her hands up before her. "What my husband is trying to say is that we were asked to check up on your village when we stopped by Haybrook. They had told us there hadn't been any traders coming in from your village in some time, and that the messengers they sent before never returned."

Several of the villagers exchanged looks. Then one of the men, who looked older than the others with hair and beard speckled with gray, stepped forward, motioning with a hand for the others to lower their weapons. With an assortment of nervous grumbles the makeshift militia did as they were told, retreating several steps to leave them in relative privacy.

"Sorry 'bout the welcome, but after what we've been through of late we can't be too careful. The name's Ragnarr, and I am as close to being the leader of this lot as you're bound to get. Leader of our local militia, for what good it does," the man explained. He frowned, glancing at the woods nervously. "Now, you said you were in from Haybrook, right?" He eyed them up and down. "You don't look like most out here, I take it you hail from other parts, more than like."

"Yes," Lucina answered, dipping her chin in affirmation. "We are from Ylisstol and were merely staying in Haybrook for a few days. When we heard of your plight we offered to pass this way on our journey home.

Ragnarr nodded, "Makes sense. It does me good to hear people took notice. It's all too easy to be forgotten, living way out here." He motioned to the treeline to emphasize his statement. "Still, can't wish they did more. Soldiers are what we really need right now."

"Soldiers? What happened? Were you attacked?" Robin asked.

"To answer that it's best started at the beginning. I reckon this all started about three weeks ago, when Lesym and Amel didn't return from hunting when the rightly ought. At first we figured they were just delayed for one reason or another, then a day turned to a few with no sign of them." Ragnarr looked around nervously, eyeing the woods with a long, fearful gaze. "We sent out a search then, three groups of our best woodsman of us. My group found nothing but smashed up trees an' tracks like nothin' I've seen before. Man shaped but bigger, an' deeper too, like whoever made them weighed same as several."

Robin exchanged a quick glance with Lucina. From her questioning look she seemed to be wondering the same thing he had: what if anything could have made the tracks described to them. And Robin was reminded of the sound on the trail, like of heavy branch being smashed to pieces.

"Aebert over there went out alone and returned before us," Ragnarr pointed over his shoulder to a pale, wide eyed man clutching at a spear in white, shaking hands. "From what was said he ran right into camp all hysterical like, and was still so when I got back, babbling about seeing something in the trees. Burning eyes he said. Hasn't spoken much since and has been too spooked to go out again. I would have chalked it up to seeing things if not for what I saw… and the word that the third party, poor Elgen and his boys, never came back."

The man fell silent, his expression grin. There was a sound from around one of the building. Turning towards it Robin spied a small, sandy-haired boy who couldn't be any older than ten peering from around the corner. An instant later a woman in a simple dress appeared behind him, whispering into the boy's ear as she quickly pulled him back inside.

"Why haven't we heard of this until now? Didn't you try to get help?

"Of course we damn well tried," Ragnarr answered sharply, anger flashing across his features. "When the traders were set to go out we gave them instruction to get help. We'd hoped that the Exalt would send soldiers or even the Shepherds. Until then we barricaded ourselves in and set a guard at all hours. What else could we have done?"

Ragnarr gritted his teeth but continued speaking. "But it seems they didn't make it past the border, as we haven't seen sign of them since. Things have been dire for us. Our food stores were used up since winter and we need what we can get through trade. And none of us will dare go out into the woods to hunt. We've heard strange things the past few night and some have even said they seen things lurking around the village. Then last night we lost Arryn an' Hal, two members of our militia. Woke up to find them gone after their watch. Best we can tell they may have seen something and chased into the woods after it. We've yet to find them, if they still live."

Robin grimaced, feeling as though an icy hand had reached inside and grabbed his gut. _How horrible._ "Has anyone tried to leave recently?" he asked.

Ragnarr nodded. "Aye. We got desperate an' a few were brave enough to volunteer. They set out a few days ago. We'd hoped against hope they'd made it but… if they had not reached Haybrook by now..." He lowered his head sadly. "You _are_ sure they did not reach the town before you departed?" he asked, whispering the question so only they could hear.

"I am afraid we did not, nor did we see any sign of them on the road," Lucina admitted, her voice somber.

"Gods… they were good men. How am going to break this news to their families…" He covered his face with a had, visibly shaken by the news. "I do not know how you two managed to make it here safely. Perhaps it was that you came more heavily armed, or perhaps it was luck. I dislike spreading our misfortune, but we are desperate. If you could carry with you a message, perhap the fates will be kinder to you than us."

For several moments Robin considered the offer. Any other time he would have accepted in an instant, but something gave him pause. Not fear for his own safety or Lucina's, but rather what might happen in their absence. No, that plan would not work.

"No," Robin answered simply.

Both Lucina and the village leader looked at Robin as though they'd been slapped.

"No?" Ragnarr asked, staring at him in utter disbelief.

"No," Robin repeated, shaking his head. "We can't do as you ask because I fear if we do there will be noone left to save by the time help comes. Whatever's been attacking you is growing bolder: if I'd have to guess I'd say they will continue to attack more frequently. Getting help is no longer an option." He turned to look at Lucina, seeing realization play across her features as she realized what he was suggesting. "Besides, two of your people were taken not to long ago, right? If there's even a chance they are still alive, someone must go after them."

"An' what are you suggesting, then?" the militia leader asked.

"Simple, while you hold up here and protect your families we are going to find and kill whatever's been attacking you," Robin answered.

Once again the villager stared at him in shock. However this time his expression was more like one someone would give a madman. "You honestly think you can do that? I admire your confidence, stranger, but I'm afraid you don't know your peril."

"Wouldn't be the first time, nor hopefully the last. Regardless, it is my duty to help no matter the peril," Robin said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You said you hoped that maybe even the Shepherds would come to your aid? Well here we are. Robin, tactician of the Shepherds as your service. Lucina here is likewise a member… no relation to the princess," he added quickly. Of course the last part was a complete lie, as, he couldn't just try to explain the whole time travel thing. But the rest was true… technically. He _was_ a Shepherd, just not an active one nor the current tactician. But that was close enough.

Ragnarr eyed them both with fresh suspicion, but after another moment's scrutiny slowly nodded his head. "Well, you two certainly look armed enough for the part. I suppose we are desperate at this point, an' if you insist on going I won't try an' stop you."

"In that case the rest of you hole up here. Do not let your guard down for even a moment," Robin instructed. "With luck we will return soon with better news."

"Aye, and I wish you luck to not befall the same fate as the others," Ragnarr replied somberly. With that he turned away to rally the villagers as Robin had instructed.

Once they were alone, Robin turned to Lucina. "So much for an uneventful time away from hope. Guess are lives are doomed to be eventful, to say the least," he said, his expression grim.

"Perhaps," Lucina agreed. She glanced up at the sky, frowning. "Looks like we do not have too many hours of daylight left. Shall we make haste in starting our hunt?"

"Ready when you are," Robin replied. "Let's go."

With that the two set out into the woods, leaving the village and the road far behind.

. . . . .

Lucina held up her hand, motioning for Robin to wait. He froze in place, listening intently. For a long moment neither of them breathed, the only sound the soft creaking of branches swaying in the forest canopy. At last Lucina let out her pent up breath in a sigh, lowering her arm. "Sorry, thought I heard something."

Robin nodded, the two setting off once more deeper into the woods. It had been a couple hours since they set off, their progress slow thanks to a relative lack of skills in woodscraft between the two of them. Sure, they had enough to get by, but neither of them were Donnel. The afternoon had already grown late, the sun already beginning its descent towards the horizon. Darkness was falling fast and soon the two of them would need to set up camp for the night.

They walked in silence, not wanting to alert unfriendly eyes to their presence. Not that it seemed to help, the foreboding watchfulness Robin had felt since they'd entered the forest seemed to grow with each step.

Then Robin stopped, noticing something. He put a hand on his wife's arm to halt her movement as well. "Wait, what was that?" he whispered in a hushed tone, indicating a strange irregular mound some distance away.

Drawing closer, Robin say that the shape was the corpse of a large, male deer. It lay in a crumpled heap at an unnatural angle, the ground dark with dried blood. Broken bones jutted from torn skin and muscle, and one of its horns had been cleanly broken off.

"What could have done this? Some sort of large bear or an wyvern?" Lucina asked, coming up next to him.

Robin said nothing. Drawing his sword, he used the tip to turn and inspect the body. "No, whatever did this used blunt force to and strength to do this. No claw or bite marks, see?" He indicated the spot of the worst damage. "This wasn't the work of a predator. Something killed it for the sake of it and left its body to rot."

Nodding, Lucina drew her own sword as she turned to search the surrounding area while Robin continued to inspect the body.

 _If I were to guess whatever did this was big enough to grab the buck. That would explains the torn muscles, which look as though it was ripped apart. But what in the world could do that? A giant? Do those even exist?_ He bit his lip, uncertain. Standing he circled the corpse, trying to get a good look at the other side.

"Robin, here!" Lucina hissed, her voice urgent.

Rushing over to her, Robin found that Lucina had not gotten far, only a half a dozen or so yards ahead him. Coming to a stop, his eyes followed to where she was pointing and grimaced.

The bodies of more animals lay strewn across the forest floor, having suffered the same fate as the deer. Some of them still looked fresh.

"Whatever did this must be close. Maybe it has a lair nearby," Robin noted. He and Lucina's eyes met and they nodded in unison, Lucina drawing Falchion.

With a path to follow, the two moved forward cautiously, alert for any sign of ambush. As they went the bodies of slain animals grew larger in number, as did the size of the victims, finding two bears among them. All around deep footprints could be seen in the mud matching those Ragnarr has described, alongside the splintered remains of crushed branches and logs.

For some while the grisly trail continued on, leading them along towards what looked to be a clearing of sorts. At least a place where the trees proved less thick, patches of fading light streaming in through the canopy. Then Robin noticed something, several shapes among the leaves that did not look like the bodies of animals. Picking up the pace he hurried the last several steps, then came to a sudden stop.

"Gods," Lucina whispered, freezing in place alongside of him.

Robin squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best not to be sick. The corpses of several people, whom Robin could only assume were the missing villagers, lay strewn in close proximity to one another. Each bore the same vicious wounds seen on the slain forest creatures. Several of them looked to be boys no older than sixteen.

Robin found a hand wrapping itself around his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Forcing his eyes open, he saw Lucina looking at him with concern. Despite the sight of the bodies she seemed less shaken then he, and Robin was reminded that she had seen far worse in her world. He'd forgotten just how much stronger than him she could be.

Nodding his head in silent thanks he turned back to the bodies, slipping his hand from hers.

Slowly the two approached the bodies, keeping their attention fixed on the surrounding forest. All the while Robin kept his teeth gritted against the urge to wretch.

They stopped a yard or so from the bodies, close enough to see what they needed. Most appeared to have been there for awhile, already showing signs of decay. Those were likely those who had been missing for several weeks. Only two looked fresh, confirming his fears as to the fate of the two villagers who'd gone missing the night before.

"Why would their bodies be laid out like this? I do not think they were brought here alive," Lucina noted, her expression grim.

Robin took a step closer, scanning the surrounding area. After a moment he nodded.

"Good call, not enough blood for them to have been killed here. These bodies were dragged here, but for what purpose I dont…" Robin trailed off suddenly, a horrible thought occurring to him. The animal corpses had made too easy of a trail to follow, almost as if someone had placed them so they could be followed. Then the human bodies, so obviously set out as bait in the center of the clearing, where the cover of trees would make it easy to be encircled. "... this is a trap," Robin whispered, eyes going wide as he cursed himself for his carelessness. He should have spotted it sooner.

As if on cue there was a tremendous sound of splintering wood from behind. Whirling around Robin caught a glimpse of a tree toppling over, and that was all he needed. He dove out of the way, skidding in the leaves and dirt as the tree crashed down in the spot he'd occupied an instant before. Scrambling to get his feet under him, he was relieved to find that Lucina had gotten clear too: his wife having landed next to him.

"Robin, get down!" Lucina shouted. Before he could even react she threw her full weight into him, knocking him out of the way just as a massive shape barreled into their position. There was a clash of steel and Robin caught a glimpse of Falchion spinning through the air and land with a _shinck_ as it's tip sunk several inches into the dirt.

Righting himself, Robin spun around and found himself face to face with a creature unlike anything he'd seen before. It was massive, nearly ten feet tall and roughly human shape, but with bloated oversized limbs and torso. It had leathery gray-green skin and wore no clothes but for leather restraints and a loincloth. Broken chains of iron dangled from shackles around its wrists and ankles, one of which showed a deep gash where it had clashed with Falchion. An iron, faceless mask covered it's features, so that only the glow of burning red eyes could be seen through the many circular holes set into it's surface.

At it's feet Lucina struggled to rise, her movements clumsy, dazed by the same impact that had knocked Falchion from her grasp. Just as she managed to get one foot under her the monster before her lifted its hands over it's head to bring them down and crush her where she stood.

"Thoron!" The bolt of lightning struck out from Robin's hand the instant the creature's meaty arms began their descent. The spell sailed right of Lucina's head and smashed into the beast. It reeled back, a muffled, almost animalistic cry of anger and pain echoing from within it's iron mask. It's bloated flesh sizzled, black smoke curling from seared flesh.

"Lucina," Robin shouted, lobbing his sword to her in the very instant she recovered. Snatching it out of thin air she slashed it from shoulder to hip before it could cover. Black sludge dripped from the wound, the thing collapsing to one knee as it struggled to stand. It raised its arms in a feeble defense the instant before Lucina's final strike fell, the tip of the borrowed sword sinking deep into it's chest.

With a shout Lucina tore the blade free, the monster crashing to the ground with a dull thump.

Enraged shouts echoed all around them. Without so much as a pause to catch their breath, more misshapen monstrosities just like the first smashed through the trees, light like fire burning from within their masks.

"Arcfire!"

Crimson fire lit up the fading twilight, spreading in a stream that washed over the advancing monsters. Rather than focus on a single target, Robin swept his hand horizontally, hoping to slow the progress of several rather than injure only one. Dry leaves and wood ignited, a wall of fire and smoke spreading between his position.

"Catch!" Lucina shouted.

Whirling, Robin seized his sword as it flew towards him hilt-first. An instant later Lucina darted past him, leaping to where Falchion stuck out from the ground.

Trusting her to deal with any foes that made it through the flames, Robin turned his attention in the opposite direction. Already two of the monsters were closing in on him, with more coming not far behind, the ground trembling with each step of their charge.

"Elwind!"

Crescent arcs of wind sliced into the closest of the creatures. Bloated skin split like rotten fruit, oily bile flowing from the wound. Yet it continued on, seeming to take no heed of the injury other than let loose an enraged bellow.

Leaping out of reach of an overhead swipe, Robin sidestepped the next blow, hacking at the monster's leg. The blade bit through muscle, hitting bone.

Twisting around Robin yanked his blade free, firing a two thunder spells one after another at the thing. It toppled, nearly crashing into the one behind. Yet despite its wounds it at once tried to rise, acting not as any critically injured living creature would. It was as if it barely noticed the hurt it had suffered.

Whatever these things were, Robin was now certain they were undead. The glow of their eyes reminded him too much of Risen, as did their complete lack of self preservation. Only where Risen had incredible speed that betrayed their clumsy movements, these things relied more on brute strength.

 _And they don't vanish when they die. Risen are as much magic as they are animated bodies. When they die, that magic consumes them. These however seem to be mostly physical bodies, transformed and animated by necromancy,_ Robin thought to himself.

Gritting his teeth he drew a hand back, channeling his full focus into the spell. Dark red flames seems to engulf his hand, spreading over his whole form.

"Ignis!" Robin bellowed. Lighting shot from his fingertips, the thoron spell taking on a magenta glow as it smashed into two undead directly in front of him, leaving two smoking corpses in it's wake.

At once sudden wave a vertigo washed through the tactician. He took a step forward, swaying. The strain of casting so many spells so quickly was already getting to him. The mind and body needed time to recover from the exertion of channeling and manipulating magical energy. Without that time each spell came harder than the last, forcing himself to push his limits further and further.

Not too far from him Lucina dueled two of the undead monstrosities, deftly avoiding clumsy attacks and countering with precise slashes and stabs. Yet he could tell she was just as hard pressed as he was, and even more still emerged from the woods on all sides.

A crunch behind him alerted him to the approach of another foe. Forcing himself to ignore the effects of spellcasting fatigue, he turned, ducking under a blow to slash at the monster's stomach. Following up with a series of slashes, he finished it off with bolt of electricity.

Before it could even so much as hit the ground Robin caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun around just in time to see one of the monsters grab a broken branch nearly as long as Robin was tall. It swung at him and he tried to dodge, but was an instant too slow, the end of the branch clipping his shoulder. The impact twisted him around and he fell to ground hard. He gasped as the air was forced from his lungs, and lights flashed before his vision.

Before he could react a hand seized hold of his ankle. It squeezed tight, agony shooting up Robin's leg. He tried to scream but the only sound his emptied lungs could manage was a wheezing gasp. His vision was filled with the sight of masked creature looming over him, the stench of decay reaching his nostrils. It dragged him closer, all the while hefting the branch it held up to strike.

Robin searched for something, anything to save him. Lucina was too far away to aid him and was locked in her battle. He'd lost his sword when he fell, he couldn't get it now

Time seemed to hang still for a single heartbeat. Then the blow fell.


	4. Fire and Ashes

With a triumphant roar the undead monster brought both hands down in the killing blow.

In an act of desperation Robin threw out his hands, pouring all of his might into a single spell, mouthing the word " _Thoron"_ . There was a blinding flash of light and a deafening sound that obliterated all other sensation. The spell struck the branch, blowing it to splinters that burst all around. The force of the blast tossed the monster back and sent him tumbling several feet back to crash into a fallen tree.

For a moment he lay there, his ears ringing, unable to feel anything. Then pain. Lots of pain. Tiny shards of wood had pierced him, all of him, worst on his hands and chest where his coat had protected him less. Most were small and had only just broken skin. One large shard however had embedded itself deep within his right leg just above him ankle. Blood soaked his pants around the wound, and the whole wound throbbed with pain.

The ground beneath him trembled as more of the masked monstrosities burst into view, lumbering towards him. He tried to stand, only to find his wounded ankle could not support his weight. He stumbled to one knee, his efforts accomplishing nothing other than to send a fresh burst of agony to stab through his wounded leg.

"Arcthunder!" A ball of lightning shot towards the lead creature, washing over it in a dancing wave of electricity. It stumbled and slowed, but did not fall, the others behind taking no heed as they rushed past.

Robin grasped for his sword, but it had fallen out of reach. A shadow fell over him, the undead creatures roaring as they fell upon him. There was no time to prepare another spell.

Robin squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the blow to fall.

_Clang._

Robin opened his eyes to see monster closest to him reeling back, a stump where it's hand had once been. Between it and him stood Lucina, Falchion held in a defensive position before her, it's blade casting a brilliant blue light. All around more of the creatures moved in, half a dozen in number. More cries echoed out from the depths of the forest, announcing that yet more were not far off.

If Lucina was phased by this, she showed no sign of it on her face, her expression one of grim determination. "Come on, then. You will not lay a finger on him," she challenged, facing down the encircling undead. Falchion seemed to shimmer with even greater intensity as she flipped it around, sweeping out into a more offensive stance.

Roars filled the clearing and they charged, the ground trembling under their heavy footfalls.

_Snickt._

Lucina sidestepped a clumsy blow from the handless undead, Falchion biting deep into its side. She leapt back, avoiding a sweep of its stump arm. Twice her blade came across before she'd even landed on the ground, her foe falling lifelessly. Smoke rose from its wounds, its body eaten away by the touch of Falchion's divine power.

Touching down lightly, Lucina spun around, catching the leg of another foe. She ducked and stabbed, avoiding the retaliatory blow and finishing it off in a single fluid movement. With the grace of a dancer she moved in a burst of preternatural speed, closing the distance between her and another foe, scoring a rapid series of blows before it could respond.

The remaining monsters closed in on her now. Even outnumbered and on the defensive Lucina managed to fell another one, slipping past clumsy blows as she danced between them.

It was then that one of the creatures changed tactics. Gripping one of the longer chains dangling from it's wrist it swung it at Lucina's legs while her back was turned. If as she spun to face it the chain wrapped around her legs, pulling her to the floor. The creatures leapt at her as she fell, Robin looking on in fear.

_No!_

Lucina twisted around as she fell, hacking at the chain with Falchion. There was a crystalline sound, broken iron rings falling around. Breaking her fall with one arm, Lucina rolled away an instant before she could be stomped flat. While avoiding death for a moment, Robin recognized at once she needed time to regain her footing, time she didn't have.

Time, however, he could give her.

"Arcwind!" A vortex of wind spun out from Robin's outstretched hand, the tactician mustering all of his strength to knock the undead monsters off balance, slowing them for the briefest of moments.

That was all Lucina needed. Getting her legs under her she leapt at the monster, plunging Falchion deep into it's chest. She crashed into it feet first, kicked off as she wrenched Falchion free. With her momentum be flipped over one of the last remaining undead, striking it in the back once, twice, and three times, black sludge pooling as it it fell dead.

In that instant the final creature was upon her. With no time to dodge, she held her ground, metal ringing out as Falchion clashed against manacle bound wrists. Her legs buckled under the sheer strength behind the blow, falling to one knee. She strained, her entire body shaking with the effort of holding the creature at bay. He bore down on her harder still, her foot and knee sliding back in the dirt as Lucina dug in to resist.

Then, with a final ringing shout she shifted her arms, shunting the undead to one side. It stumbled, losing balance, and Lucina struck. Falchion's tip appeared from the thing's back. For a moment all was still. Then the burning embers of light died in the things mask as it slumped forward.

_Thump._

It landed face first, Lucina stepping aside to avoid being crushed.

For a second Lucina stood there panting and gasping for breath. Then at once she whirled around and rushed to Robin's side, the serious expression she'd worn during the fight giving way to concern.

"Robin, are you alright? Your leg, how bad is it?" Lucina asked, eyeing the wound with obvious worry.

"Hurts real bad, not sure if I can walk on my own." Robin winced, his jaw tightening as another wash of pain shot up his leg.

All around inhuman growls and moans echoed from the forest, louder than before. They were getting closer.

"Lucina, you need to get out of here. Get to the village, I'll…" Robin averted his gaze, not wanting to see her expression as he told her. "I'll just slow you down. Better one of us gets out of here than neither of us."

"No."

Before Robin could respond Lucina tore a strip off of her cloak, and, gripping the shard of wood, yanked it free. Robin did his best not to scream, the pain so intense he almost blacked out. For a moment he knew nothing but a haze of throbbing agony. By the time it had subsided Lucina had already tightly bound his wound in the strip of fabric.

"This is not an argument, Robin. I am not leaving you," Lucina told him sternly. Without hesitation she got her shoulder under his arm, dragging him upright so that she could support his injured leg. "Move!"

As fearful for his wife's safety as Robin was, now was not the time to argue. They set off at once, Robin putting as much weight on his injured leg as he could afford to hasten their pace. Each step hurt more than the last, but he couldn't let it affect him. They had to keep moving, even if he had to suffer to do it. If Lucina wouldn't leave him, he had to make sure they both made it.

Despite their efforts the sounds behind grew ever closer with each passing minute. They'd scarcely made more than ten minutes' progress before the sound of crashing and breaking branches joined the cries. If they could make those out, then their pursuers had gotten close indeed.

"They're catching up. At this rate we're not going to get much further," Robin said, limping along even faster. The pain was really starting to take it's toll and he feared he might black out soon if he had to keep it up. The sound of pursuit was getting closer, and soon he feared they'd spot the masked monstrosities emerging from all around them.

"Then think of something! You always get us through no matter how dire things seem," Lucina replied. Even though she had to shout, she did not seem to be panicking. Afraid and worried, yes, but not panicked.

That was enough to act as the proverbial slap. He needed to focus to think of something. He glanced back again, the scent of far distant smoke reaching his nostrils. His leg burned with each step and- wait, that was it. Fire. If he could start a large enough fire, it may buy them some time, they might be able to make it.

Of course, the risk was that the fire spread out of control. Even the smaller fire he started before had the same risk. But, well, at this point it was likely better than the alternative.

"Arcfire!" Robin bellowed, igniting a wide swath behind them. Unlike in the clearing, the wealth of dead wood and dry leaves here allowed the fire to spread quickly, within moments becoming a raging inferno.

 _Than should slow them a… you know what…_ "Thoron!" Robin snapped. He aimed his bolt at the base of the largest tree in sight. It's trunk cracked and gave way, toppling several other trees right in the path of pursuers.

_There, that's for good measure. Let's see them catch us now._

Enraged cries filled the woods behind them, growing more distant now, lost in the crackle of flames.

"Good, we should be clear now, maybe-" Before Robin could finish a shadow loomed out from the trees. A iron mask glinted in the fiery light, a deafening roar filling the air.

Lucina pulled Robin to one side, the two of them stumbling out of reach just in time to avoid a sweeping strike of the thing's colossal fists.

Lucina whipped Falchion around, the blade falling in a blinding arc. The undead monster reeled back from the blow, growling in rage.

"Elthunder!" The bolt struck home, toppling the creature even as the two rushed past. They managed barely more than a yard before two more of the hulking monstrosities loomed before them. The duo ducked, barely avoiding another strike, Robin knocking the undead back with a blast of wind.

_Where did they come from!? It's like they just appeared out of thin air!_

In an instant there was a crackle in the air, every nerve in Robin's body tingling as if alight. All at once the shadows around them came alive, rushing inward in a vortex of dark magic.

"Down!"

Robin threw his full weight against Lucina, forcing them both flat on the ground. Above their heads the vortex crashed in on itself, sending purple vapor exploding outward in all directions. Robin threw up his hand, shielding them with a gust of wind that deflected the vapor away, dissipating it like a wisp of smoke.

Shoving himself to one knee, he wrapped his arm back around Lucina as she scrambled upright, the two rushing forward once more.

"Where did that come from? That was dark magic, there must be a sorcerer nearby!" Lucina shouted. She kept her shoulders hunched and back bent as they ran, trying to stay a low down where the undergrowth could provide some cover.

"Must be whose controlling these undead. But -where-"

Shrill laughter filled the air. Turning to look behind him, Robin eyes fell on a shape among the backlit flames, a distortion in the air. The shape shimmered and seemed to flicker in and out of reality. The more he focused on it the more he could make out. A humanoid shape, translucent but for a purple haze that flickered like flames. The figure raised his hand, launching a sphere are darkness at the two. The air thrummed with power as it lanced towards them.

"Thoron!" Once more Robin tapped into the pools of power within him, his spell burning with a crimson light. The Ignis infused bolt smashed into the sphere. Rather than detonate the enemy spell was forced back to it's caster. The two spells struck, exploding in a blinding flash. Both Robin and Lucina were thrown to the ground, chunks of burning debris and dirt falling all around.

Raising his head Robin stared at the burning wreckage behind them. Above the roar of flames the moaning roars of their pursuers could be heard, but they were far off, on the other side of the flames. Of the ones that had materialized moments before nothing could be seen, having been completely destroyed by the explosion

"Well that's one way to cut off pursuit," Robin laughed. Or at least he tried to, the sound quickly turning into a coughing fit as he inhaled a bit more smoke and dirt than he would have liked.

"Let us depart before they can find another way around," Lucina said. Standing the two set off at a bit more comfortable but still hasty pace, hurrying back to Corgrove as fast as they were able.

. . . . .

Robin winced as he tested his bandaged leg, an aching throb spreading all the way up to his knee whenever he put his full weight on it. He would need to have a healer check it later if he wanted full mobility. Still, at least he could walk under his own power, even if it brought him more pain.

Lucina had helped him properly clean and dress the injury once they'd made it back to Corgrove, at which point Robin has easily gotten his fill of limping through a forest at night to last a lifetime. Unfortunately the village had little in the way of medical supplies, little more than some bandages, salve, and a single vulnerary. Of that he had only taken only a single dose, enough to repair some of the damage to the underlying wound and close it up a bit. He dared not use the rest of the potion. It was likely it would be needed before the night was done.

Since the time they had returned with the warning of the monsters they had faced, Robin had at once set about preparing the village's meager defenses. With the help of the militia they had dragged fallen logs and branches between the houses, piling them along with every piece of furniture in makeshift barricades. While unlikely to stop the massive undead creatures, it would hopefully slow them down and help restrict their movements. In addition he had them dig fire pits throughout the village and light roaring bonfires to ensure they had clear visibility. The risk of being spotted wasn't too much of a concern at this point. Besides, if these things were anything like Risen they could see well enough in the dark, fire or not.

Meanwhile the women, children, and elderly had been moved to a home as close to center of the village as possible. There it would be easiest to defend them.

Beyond that there was little he could do but direct the fighting men he had in how best to defend their position. All in all he had about twenty men capable of fighting, armed with bows or hunting spears.

The painful truth was that none were soldiers, only trained in the use of their weapons to hunt game and maybe run off the occasional brigand here and there. But not anything like this. They simply weren't trained for a fight, let alone something like this, and Robin was loathe to put them in harm's way. But with no natural defenses to exploit, the attack would come on all side. He and Lucina were simply too few to hold on their own.

 _We just have to hope they can make it,_ Robin thought, grimacing.

A faint crunch of light footsteps alerted him to someone's approach. He did not need to look to see it was Lucina, having become so accustomed to her presence that he could recognize her gait even without looking for it. His wife moved up along side him, gazing into the woods beyond the town's edge, her lips pursed in worry.

For several moments neither of them spoke, merely watching and waiting from their position near the center of the village. The plan was for the two of them to act as the mobile portion of their defenses, moving to wherever the fighting was most desperate. It would be ill advised for the two of them to just man a single position rather than be where they were most needed at any given time.

"I wish we could do more," she whispered softly, her tone distant, as if speaking as much to herself as to him.

"We did all we could," Robin replied, frowning. He glanced her way. "You okay?" He wrapped his fingers around her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I keep thinking of the little ones," Lucina said, her tone sad.

Robin nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. During the fight and desperate escape he had been too occupied trying to stay alive then think about what would happen if he didn't make it. He was sure it had been much the same for her. But now, waiting for the fighting to begin, his mind could not help but be drawn to thoughts of their children, of what would happen if they grew up without knowing their parents.

Surely Chrom and Sumia would take good care of them, but growing up without knowing one's parents would be hard on any child. And what about their older counterparts. That Morgan and Marc already lost the him and Lucina of their world. Even if Morgan did not remember it, how devastating would it be to both of them.

He winced, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to keep at bay the moistness forming there that came with the thought of the hurt he may cause if he were to fall.

"I know. We…" He swallowed hard, his voice croaking as he fought past the lump of emotion forming in his throat. "We will make it, I promise. We won't let-"

Cries rang out from deep within the forest. The two of them froze, listening as more voices, distorted as if speaking from inside a steel helm, rose us in a cacophony of animalistic roars.

All around the villagers posted at the barricades starred on into the darkened woods in terror: skin ghostly white, eyes open wide.

Then all at once the stillness was shattered as countless hulking abominations broke through the treeline, rusting iron masks catching the light of the bonfires.

"Arcthunder" Robin bellowed, sweeping his hand downward as he spoke the words. Multiple bolts of lightning struck down on a section of the mass of enemies. Plunes dirt and smoke burst where the spell struck, the nearest of the creatures stagger, burnt flesh sizzling, but not fall.

"Open fire!" Robin ordered, screaming as loud as he could so the whole of the village could hear.

Bowstrings twanged and arrows whistled through the air. All around shafts of wood sprouted from the undead creatures, the things jerking as they were struck. Some slowed, but still none fell, roaring in rage.

Behind the night sky seemed to change, a orange glow overtaking the black, split my clouds of smoke. The fire started in their escape has spread, engulfing such a great swath of forest that it could be seen even miles a away.

The villagers loosed another volley, this time managing to drop three of the creatures. Then the undead hoard reached the buildings, crashing into the barricades with a savage, mindless further. Screams rang out as the barrier directly in front of them was smashes to pieces, the villagers behind.

Without thinking Robin rushed forward, Lucina falling into step a second after he thought she would have. A torrent of wind ripped the lead undead back, clipping the ones behind as it fell.

Falchion sang from its sheath as Lucina sprinted past Robin, ripping into the staggered monsters. Drawing his own sword, Robin came in behind, focusing its efforts on striking down those wounded by his wife. Behind the villagers had recover, jabbing their spears to either side of the duo to catch any foes who may slip that way, and out of fear to get into the way of the more experienced fighters.

Several of the wounded undead began to stumble back, withdrawing from the fighting. Lucina noticed this too, tensing suddenly as if wanting to give chase. Then Robin saw something on her face, a glimmer of hesitance. She stopped, taking a half step back and instead taking up a more defensive position.

Before Robin could wonder at it the sound of fighting breaking out at several other defensive positions filled the air. A villager screamed in pain, the sound drowned in a inhuman roar.

"Hold this point, patch up the barricade of you can," Robin instructed, trusting the villagers finish off the stragglers here. With that he and Lucina turned and hurried to the next defense.

For what felt like hours the two rushed from defense to defense, throwing back the seemingly endless tide of enemies. Even though neither suffered any major hurt, the battle took it's toll on them. Each step, a swing of an arm became harder, exhaustion mounting as their limbs turned to lead. Soon the pain in Robin's leg began to worsen again, so that every step brought great discomfort.

The villagers fared little better. They lost two in the third assault, crushed as a mass of the creatures had charged straight through. Another, a boy no more than sixteen, had his neck snapped like a twig when one of the monsters had grabbed him. Robin felt each of these deaths as keenly as any wound he could have suffered. He did not know these people personally, he didn't even know their names. But he was still responsible, still at fault. They died because he couldn't save them.

Others had been wounded, badly enough for them to be put out of the fight. Yet for every five, ten, twenty of the creatures they killed it seemed to not matter, another always appearing to take it's place.

"Arcthunder!" Robin lunged to one side, avoiding being trapped as the undead stumbled forward, spasming as electricity coursed and sizzled through it's body. He hacked at it's thigh before stabbing it through the side, twisting and ripping the blade free to cause as much damage. The thing toppled with a thud, still.

The ground shook, more lumbering towards a nearby barricade. The two villagers there were already struggling to take down a single one monsters and would not be able to hold.

Lucina saw it to, tensing. Putting one foot up on the barricade she began to move forward. For a split second she froze in place, a faint intake a breath reaching Robin's ears. Then she bounded forward, leaping over the barrier.

Robin chased a step behind, arcing a ball of fire up over Lucina's head to splash down in front of the creatures. That got their attention, heads swiveling on thick necks to look at them. They bellowed, the sound echoing as it bounced around inside their masks, and thudded towards them.

Lucina danced around swiping blows, opening up one of the creatures from shoulder to hip. It fell, painting the ground in black sludge. She ducked another swipe then lunged to one side, avoiding not an incoming blow but the spell she had expected Robin to fling an instant before he'd even prepared it. The blast of wind staggered the creature, allowing Falchion to slip in under it's mask and separate it's head from his shoulders.

The two feel back at once, leading the creatures back towards the barricade, blades and spells singing into the night. The houses on either side funneled the undead monsters too them one or two at a time. Yet even while the two managed to stem the tide here, more fighting broke out throughout the rest of the night.

"There are too many! We're not going to be able to hold much longer!" Lucina shouted, black ichor dripping from Falchion's blade as she stepped back behind the barrier, hacking down the last of the foes assailing them. She was right, even as they won individual victories, the defense as a whole could not last as casualties mounted.

As if on cue a terrified scream filled the air, the two of them turning just in time to see several undead seized a member of the village militia at one of the other barricades. Before either could react they fell on him, his final, frantic shout cut suddenly short. Anger flared in Robin's heart, another life taken that he'd failed to save.

He wanted nothing more to rush to the fallen man, against all hope that he somehow still lived. But no matter what he felt, the cold reality of the situation stayed his hand. All around them the situation was equally as grim, and what mattered now was to keep any many alive as he could: the women and children and any of remaining militia he could save.

Lucina too watched on in horror, rooted as if turned to stone. Normally Robin would have expected such a sight to drive Lucina to reenter the fight with new vigor, driven to avenge the fallen. Sure, she never acted so recklessly to abandon herself so fully to her emotions to disregard strategy or her own safety: a lesson her future had taught long ago, but this was different. There was hesitance and fear in her that he had never seen before. Not just now either, the whole battle she had seemed to hold back from throwing herself fully into the conflict.

For a moment Robin considered telling her to withdraw, to fall back to where the women and children were hiding and watch over them, only to immediately reject the idea. He knew Lucina: she could never sit idly as others fought and died, even if she had others to whom her survival meant a great deal. He knew that better than anyone, because it was exactly how he felt too. In many a way the two of them were so very much alike.

Pushing aside his thoughts for now, Robin turned his full attention to the state of the battle. Right now escape was their priority, but they wouldn't get far at this rate. In normal circumstances Robin would have thought of causing some sort of distraction, but these things had proven far greater coordination and intelligence than they seemed to individually posses. Something must be controlling them, something that would certainly hunt down the fleeing villagers.

 _But where is their master? Where-_ Robin stopped, remembering the strange phantom sorcerer. Something like that could easily mask its presence. Damnit, how had he been this stupid? The leader of the enemy forces had been here the entire time

Robin reached out, searching the battlefield with not just his eyes but with his mind. It has to be… there! He felt the faint hum of magic, hidden under the overwhelming barrage of other senses. He focused on it and there, merely a handful of yards from where he stood, he saw it. A robed figure outlined in violet flames, wholly invisible until he'd become aware of it's presence. It moved silently around the edge of the village, silently observing the battle.

"Lucina, keep them busy," Robin shouted. Throwing out his hand he charged, he called down a bolt of lightning that crashed into the figure. Evidently the phantom sorcerer had not expected anyone to notice it's presence, as it was caught completely off guard, knocking him back before it could so much as react.

Desperately the phantom tried to regain it's footing, retaliating with the same spell it had used before. But Robin was already ready for it, throwing himself into a headlong roll just as an explosion of violet vapor detonated in the very spot he'd stood an instant before.

Coming out of his roll Robin felt the muscles in his wounded tug sharply, renewed agony stabbing up to his knee. He staggered his first step, but managed to keep from falling. Ignoring the pain the best he could, Robin struck out with a Thoron spell, hitting the sorcerer right as it began casting a spell of it's own. The phantom's magic fizzled, and it screamed in rage. It's voice sounded strange, almost like someone trying to speak while underwater. No human sounded like that.

Closing the last final steps, Robin side stepped a frantic bolt of lighting, the sorcerer's movements becoming almost panicked. For an instant the phantom's form rippled and became more distinct, allowing Robin to catch a glimpse of a pale man with greasy black hair, clad in black and gold robes with a horned half-mask over his face.

And then Robin drove his sword into the phantom's heart. A shrill, piercing cry split the night as the phantom dissolved into smoke. It reminded him of what happened when Risen died, only the vapor was a vivid mix of scarlet and violet mist rather than the inky black.

 _There is no way that thing was human. Or at least I doubt it was so,_ Robin thought to himself. _Could it have been some sort of undead too, or perhaps-_

"Robin!"

Lucina's shout snapped Robin from his ponderings. Whirling around he saw that a mass of the undead were charging the other side of the village while he and Lucina had been distracted here. Screams of the wounded and dying mixed with the inhuman cries of their foes.

Before he could make it more than a few steps more of the things burst from the treeline, bounding towards him with inhuman speed. Even as he turned to face them he caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Lucina leapt into the freu next to him, Falchion gleaming as it cut a wide swath into the undead horde.

"We need to fall back and regroup. With their master dead I bet these things will lose all notion of tactics," Robin told her. "I have a plan but to make sure they don't follow, but…" he trailed off, letting the single look he spared her way say it all.

Lucina looked back at him in that instant he saw a confusion of emotions pass over her face in rapid succession. Fear, guilt, regret, all born of desire to refuse what he was suggesting, a plan very likely to get them both killed. A plan that had her think of Morgan and Marc back home. Then she glanced at the building where the women and children of the village, other families huddled in fear. Her expression hardened with fresh resolve and she nodded. "I understand. Let us retreat back to the others."

Together made a beeline for the worst of the fighting at the other side of the village, Robin covering their escape with his magic. As they ran Robin sound himself limping along, the renewed agony in his leg having yet to die down. It only took a single look to guess the reason, one side of the bandage and pant leg was stained red with fresh blood, the wound having been reopened in the fighting. That, well, wasn't the best news he could have gotten. Any more strain on it and he could inflict more permanent harm. But, given the situation that was not a luxury he could even so much as consider. He had to ignore it now, had to keep going.

Soon enough they reached the opposite barricades, where they found what was left of the villager militia. A pang of guilt struck at the center Robin's chest as he beheld that of their original number only half were still alive, and of those many were badly injured.

At least some are still alive, Robin told himself bitterly. To be entirely honest he _had_ feared he'd find worst, but it seemed at least the militia had repelled this most recent assault but moments before he reached them. Even still, countless more of the creatures could be seen moving through the woods all around, masks and shackles glinting in the bonfire light they had seconds, maybe more, until the carnage resumed.

"Ragnarr," Robin shouted, calling out the village leader. The hunter turned militia captain had not made it out unscathed, visibly favoring a broken arm. The man looked up at him, his expression weary and so devoid of hope that his eyes seemed almost dead.

"Gather your women and children. We can't hold out here, there are too many. Make for the road, do not stop until you are out of the forest," Robin told him.

"But we'll never make it. Those things will-"

Roars echoed out from the woods, overlapping in a deafening cacophony. Burning eyes glowed in the dark, yet more fell voices joining the cry as a mass of bloated, hulking monstrosities thundered towards them in a tide

"Yes you will. Set fire to the buildings, use the fire and smoke as cover. We'll hold them off."

"But what about our homes?" Ragnarr asked, visibly taken aback by the suggestion.

"Your lives are more important Go!" Robin shouted. Leaping over the smashed barricade he turned his attention to the masked monsters. He could not turn back to see if they did as they were told now. He could only pray.

Again and again Robin rose his voice to a shout, casting spells long after he felt his strength began to fail. Again and again Falchion cleaved through bloated limbs and putrid skulls, Lucina moving like a whirlwind against the sea of oncoming undead. Yet for each they killed another soon took it's place.

Behind them the flickering light grew brighter, distant shouts mixing with the crackle of roar of of spreading flames, until the whole world seemed engulfed by an shifting werelight of gold and crimson.

With each moment the two veteran Shepherds were forced back step by step, unable to hold their ground against the endless stream of foes. Fire and smoke billowed all around them, the battlefield itself becoming a suffocating hellscape.

Despite the situation, Robin could not help but wonder at the reason two of his escape plans had involves fire. _Guess I am just in a burny mood today. Or pyromania somehow became a transmittable disease and I caught it from Frederick. Ha._

Throwing the nearest creature back with a spell, Robin as last spared a brief glance over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of villagers and militia alike fleeing the town.

 _Good. They' made it,_ Robin thought. All he needed was to lead them in the opposite direction to the villagers, and think about his and Lucina's own escape.

"Elwind."

A crescent arc of wind smashed into one of the burning buildings between then and the undead creatures that looked less stable than those besides. The wood groaned, then with a roaring class gave way, raining embers and flaming debris down on the approaching horde, slowing their charge.

"Let's go!" Robin shouted. Turning, he sprinted off, choosing a path that led away from the road and the fleeing villagers. For good measure he flung a couple spells blindly to ensure he and Lucina had their attention. Wouldn't want their distraction to fail now, would they?

Even as they ran Robin turned his thoughts inward, rapidly sifting through memory. _We need something we can use, perhaps… Yes! A river runs through the woods, about a mile from here. If we can cross that those things might not be able to follow._

"This way," Robin instructed, veering off north.

Behind were the roars of warped voices and clamor of massive forms crashing through the underbrush. Robin dared not look back, knowing that if he did the knowledge of just how doomed would inspire panic. Or abject terror. One of the two. Either way, he really needed to stay focused.

All around the forest glowed with a hellish orange light, the forest fires having begun to spread rapidly, chasing only steps behind the undead pursuers.

Soon the ground began the slope upwards, the trees becoming more sparse. Over the crackle of flame and fell growls the sound of rushing water could be heard. They were almost there, just a bit further.

At the moment there was a deafening crash, the woods to one side exploding as several of the monsters busted their way through the overgrowth.

Acting instinct Robin lashing of with a spell, stunning the creatures with a wave of lightning that jumped from one to the other. Falchion flashed silver and the closest of the masked beasts fell back, a stump where it's arm had been.

"Go," Lucina shouted leaping away, not pausing to even heed her injured foe.

Robin did not need to be told twice, sprinting next to her with redoubled speed. His wounded leg burned in protest, but he had to power through it. To give in now was to die.

They veered right now, away for the river and up towards what looked like a ridge. It was free of trees and sloped up sharply to a cliff overlooking the rushing water. They would have to loop past it, get around to the other side of it before they could cross.

Then disaster struck. As Robin put his full weight onto his wounded leg he felt a sudden shock of searing agony. The leg gave way beneath him as he fell, a cry of shock and pain falling from his throat.

"Robin!" Lucina screamed. Spinning around she leapt back to him, slinging his arm around her shoulder as she dragged him upright. Within seconds Robin knew this was bad. Exhausted from battle, Lucina could barely support his weight.

Ahead the forest moved, yet more of the creatures emerged that way, blocking off their escape. They were surrounded, caught between their foes and the ridge.

"This way!" Lucina instructed, turning towards the cliff. They really had no choice: a probable death was better than a certain one. Lucina huffed and gasped for air as she practically dragged him with her up the slope, progress painfully slow. Behind their foes gained on them.

Suddenly Robin lurched forward, Lucina's foot slipping as loose rock gave way beneath a foot, nearly falling. Then a groan fell from her lips, turning to a growl as she clenched her teeth shut. Seizing Robin tighter she regained her footing and charged forward in a final effort. She bounded up the last few steps, skidding to a stop several feet before the drop. Even still Robin could see the rushing water below, the dark waters blood red as they reflected the burning light.

The foul, bloated monstrosities closed in at the foot of the crest, beginning their own accent. They could not escape that way, unless being torn to shreds could be considered escape.

Robin looked back, watching the hoard of undead as they lumbered up the hill towards them. Many dropped down on all fours, scrambling like apes up the slope.

There were so many, he had to do something. He grimaced, thinking of the rare tome he carried with him. But even at full strength that spell was almost too much for him, not since he came back. While he hadn't known it at the time, the heart of Grima had given him far greater capabilities than most other mages, allowing him to tap into the fragment of Grima's own power to fuel is spells. He'd done it instinctively, not even recognizing in the power had not be wholly his own. But now, without it, every spell was just a bit harder to cast, just a bit less potient.

And to top it all off, he was exhausted, physically and mentally. He did not know what could happen if he tried.

But he had to, regardless of the risk.

"Lucina, stand back!" Robin bellowed. Putting some of his weight on his injured leg he staggered a step forward, untangling himself from Lucina. He grit his teeth, his vision darkening as the agony sought to overwhelm him. But for that moment, his leg held.

The undead monstrosities were upon them. He had seconds before they would be within arm's reach. He could already see the glow of their fell eyes behind their masked, hear their foul grunts and growls.

Reaching into his to coat he yanked free a old cracked tome inlaid with gold embroidery. On its cover was the symbol of a hanner wreathed in lightning. Taking a deep breath, Robin delved into himself, drawing everything he had left for one, final attack. Opening his eyes he thrusted his hand out and shouted the spell at the top of his lungs.

"Mjolnir!"

A column of lightning split the night sky, crashing down atop the undead monstrosities. White light burned into Robin's retinas, split by the shadowy imprints of the animated bodies caught by his spell. The ones hit by the edge of the blast were thrown aside in charred and smoking heaps, while those at the epicenter were obliterated in their entirety.

The roar of the blast died away as the dust settled, smoke wafting from the wide swath of charred earth before them. Further away more of the undead creatures could be seen, charging up the ridge, heedless of the destruction of half their number.

Robin swayed a single step, the world spinning around him. Numbness spread through his limbs, his head throbbing as his vision darkened. He tried to look around, to move, to do something, but he could not, his body refusing to follow his commands.

"That's… the best… I… I…" Robin's legs buckled and he fell to one side. Distantly he heard Lucina call his name. She was saying something else but… he couldn't really make it out. He couldn't even tell if he'd hit the ground or if she caught him.

His vision continued to darken, closing in so that it seemed like he was looking through a tunnel. The world began to move in front of him, he was being dragged by Lucina towards the edge of the cliff, the undead and their faceless masks closing in.

It struck Robin that he couldn't feel a thing, and he wondered at it. Had the spell taken too much out of him? Was he going to die? The thought did not seem to scare him like he thought it should, feeling instead as if it was an observation of little consequence.

Lucina collapsed to one knee as they reached the edge, her own exhaustion finally taking it's toll. Then, with a final heave, she pulled them both over the edge.

The last thing Robin was aware of was the sight of water rushing towards him. Then everything went black.

He didn't even remember hitting the water.


	5. Rest and Healing

Cold. Everything was cold.

Robin tried to open his mouth only for a sensation like liquid ice to rush into his mouth and fill his lungs.

Numbness…

An eternity of darkness where time had no meaning.

The void gave way as fragmented sights, sounds, and other sensations broke through, flitting past so quickly he could barely focus on them.

Lucina dragging him out the water. Mud caking his soaked clothes and hair. Cold air against his skin. The throbbing agony of his injured leg.

He slipped back into the haze, floating for an indeterminable span of time.

He felt a rhythmic pounding on his chest break through and he found himself looking through blurry eyes up at Lucina. He coughed and water spluttered from his lips and he managed to take a painful breath.

He sunk into the earth, his eyelids drooping. He faintly felt Lucina shake him and heard her say something, but he couldn't make it out. She sounded so far away.

Darkness rushed to claim him and his head lulled. He felt nothing but the distant throb of pain in his left leg. He floated through the haze, occasionally slipping in and out of consciousness.

...Lucina dragging him through the woods, his limp body slung over her back…

...Distant shouts in human voices, drawing closer now…

...Bouncing alone in the back of cart. A hand pressed against his forehead…

...Worried voices speaking over him in hushed murner. He was being carried, but to where…

For what felt like both eons and seconds he slid through the fog, the brief moments of consciousness coming less frequently. Those that did were little more than a brief sensation: a hand touching his arm, a indistinct voice, a warmth or chill.

Then slowly the haze began to recede. It was as if a light had begun to shine down through the ocean's waves, growing brighter and brighter as he floated upward towards the surface. At first he resisted it, the gentle siren's call beckoning him back into the pleasant oblivion of unconsciousness. He was so tired after all, couldn't he just rest? It was too hard, too hard to do anything. Every thought was a struggle, thinking now felt far beyond him.

But the light continued to grow brighter until he could not deny it any more. The mist gave way to light and he clawed upward. With a final tug he pulled himself upward and broke free above the waves.

The first thing he was aware of was the sensation of sheets against his skin. He was laying in a bed, his head propped up on several pillows. The fragrance of soap and fresh flowers reached his nose. He wondered at it for a moment, his mind sluggish to process what it could mean. _The sheets must be freshly washed._

Letting out a soft groan, Robin opened his eyes, blinking as the light burned into his retina. He squinted, trying to focus. He blinked again, and again once more, forcing the world into focus. He was staring up at the ceiling of his and Lucina's room, the light streaming in through a window casting a dazzling pattern of light and shadow across the plastered surface.

For several seconds he just stared up at the ceiling, too tired to move. Then with another groan he coaxed his body to obey his commands, turning his head to look around. Every muscle in his body felt stiff and heavy, as though someone had replaced them with solid lead.

His eyes fell on Lucina. She was seated in a chair next to his bed, her chin resting against her chest as she dozed. Her hair looked tangled and dirty, as if she had not left the spot in several days. The edges of white bandages poked out from within her shirt, wrapping down out of sight behind the quilted blue cloth.

Even as he watched her eyelids fluttered and she lifted her head. She froze, gaze falling on him. She sat upright all at once, any hint of sleep swept aside as she looked at him with eyes completely alert and focused.

"Robin, thank goodness, you're awake. I was so worried that…" She stopped herself, seemingly unwilling to finish that depressing thought. For a long moment she stared at him hesitantly, as if wanting nothing more than to embrace him on the spot but fearful of causing him discomfort on account of his injuries. Instead she seemed to settle for gently placing a hand on top of his, her skin soft and warm against his. "How do you feel? I dearly hope you are not in too much pain, are you?"

"I…" Robin croaked, only then realizing just how cracked and dry his throat was. He tried to swallow, which did little to ease his discomfort. "Thirsty," he managed on the second try.

Nodding, Lucina got up from her chair, fetching a pitcher and cup from the dresser. Careful not to spill any, she poured a glass and lifted it to Robin's lips. It took every ounce of self control, and the difficulty it took to move his painfully sore body to keep from snatching the cup and downing the whole thing all at once. So he instead settled for the pace his wife dictated as she gingerly tipped it back as he drank from it.

"Better?" Lucina asked once he was finished, setting the empty cup aside.

Robin nodded. "What happened? How long was I out?" he asked, wracking his memory. The last thing he remembered clearly was Lucina dragging him towards the edge of the cliff after he'd collapsed and… well, not whole lot after than.

"It has been three days. Two since we made it back to Ylisstol," Lucina answered. "As for what happened… you lost consciousness after your spell on that ridge. With those things closing in on us… I did not see much choice other than to take our chance with jumping. It was quite stupid, I would agree, but… but it seemed the course least likely to end im our deaths. Unfortunately the current was stronger than I'd expected. I only _just_ managed to drag the two of us to ashore before eithet of us could drown." She frowned, looking him up and down with naked concern,

Robin grimaced, realizing at once what the worried look meant. "How bad?" he asked softly, meeting her gaze.

"You got pretty banged up against the rocks. I made certain to shield you from the worst of it, and, well…" she gestured to the bandages hidden under her clothes. "... this is the resulta of my efforts. It was close, Robin. Dreadfully close. You were barely breathing when I got us out. I was so scared, I thought I wouldn't be able to get you to help before you…" She trailed off, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. It came away glistening with a sheen of moisture.

"Guess I'm lucky that I am annoyingly difficult to kill." He smiled and laughed, or at least tried to, finding it far too painful. _Cracked ribs, probably,_ he noted, pressing a hand against his aching side. He looked back to Lucina, his smile softening. "Sorry, bad time for levity. I'm fine now though, so no need to worry. I'm fine," he repeated, trying his best to reassure her. He didn't want to worry her. She'd had to worry too much already on his account.

"I know, just… you really need to stop scaring me so. I already lost you once and…" she shook her head, banishing the thought. "After getting us out I didn't wait to see if those things could swim. I carried you best I could and I got us away."

"How far did you carry me?" he asked, arching an eyebrow in surprise. While he could see no other way she could have gotten him out of the woods, it still came as a shock she had managed it, worn down as she'd been by the battle's end.

"Past the edge of the woods, maybe a quarter of a mile after. I was fortunate enough to be close to a farmhouse when I could go no further. The family who lived there found us and were very kind," she answered. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "They gave me a place to get us dry and helped me tend to your wounds. They even offered to take the two of us by cart to Ylisstol the next day. I would have usually refused, not wanting to trouble them, but given your condition I accepted. That was two days ago, and aunt Lissa has been tending to you since then."

She shook her head, her gaze falling on the spot where his right leg lay under the sheets. "The injury to your leg was the worst of it. You managed to reopen the wound and badly strain the surrounding muscle. Lissa feared that if it got infected you may lose the limb from the knee down. But thankfully it did not come to that."

 _My leg?_ Robin wondered, remembering the dreadful injury for first time since he'd woken up. It was then that he realized that while his whole body ached, he felt nothing where his leg should have been. "I can't feel anything. Why can't I…" Panic seized him and he scrambled to sit upright, pawing at limb. He felt nothing, not even when he touched it. "Oh gods, I can't feel it at all. That's bad, isn't it? Why can't I-"

He felt Lucina place her hands on his shoulders, pressing him back down onto the bed. "Relax, it is to be expected. Aunt Lissa used a spell to cut off sensation in your leg so the pain would not trouble you while you rested." she explained gently.

Robin released a slow, pent up breath, her answer washing aside the momentary panic. "Oh, that makes a lot more sense," he said, allowing himself to lay back down. He inwardly scolded himself for overreacting . While not in common use, such spells were used in rare circumstances. It was the drawback of completely paralyzing the afflicted area for the duration of the spell that meant it could only really be used on patients who were already bedridden. To his credit though, it _was_ the first time he'd been injured badly enough to warrent it's use.

"How long will it last?" he asked.

"A few hours before it wears off."

He nodded. His gaze wandered over to the empty crib that lay next to their bed. "Where are the little ones?" he asked, tensing as the realization of their absence striking him dead in the chest

"My mother is looking after them. With you to worry about, she insisted caring for them should be the last thing I take upon myself right now," Lucina answered, frowning slightly and glancing over to the empty crib.

"Oh, good." Robin sighed in relief, relaxing back down onto the bed. Reaching out he wrapped his hand around Lucina's, giving it a squeeze. "I'm just glad we made it. Would hate for them to… well… for us to leave them."

"Yes. I am thankful that did not occur." She gave his hand a squeeze back. She smiled, the first true smile she'd worn since he'd woken up.

Robin fell silent, content to reflect on how lucky they had been and that fortune was the only reason the two of them could be here right now, doing this. But try as he might he could not bring himself to smile too, a nagging guilt clawing the back of his mind. Yes, not everyone had been so lucky, not everyone else had made it out. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the faces of the villagers killed during the fighting and before.

_And it was his fault._

He opened his eyes, his lungs burning as he realized he was holding his breath. He blew out the stale air with a weary puff.

"So what happens now? What about those creatures? Is there anything to be done?" He asked, unable to let the matter sit any longer. The dead would not allow it.

Lucina's smile faltered. "Yes. Plans are on the way to respond to our encounter and determine the source of this threat."

"Then I should-" Robin tried to sit up, only to be promptly stopped by Lucina.

"No, you should not. You are going to rest and not trouble yourself with this until you are better. If Lissa believes you are well enough then perhaps tomorrow you can speak with my father about these matters," she told him firmly, using the same tone she'd used on the occasions where she had scolded Morgan for her antics.

Robin opened his mouth to argue, but one look at his wife's expression and he shut it again. Yeah, this was not an argument he was going to win.

"Alright, just… the sooner the better. I hate to just lay here when I could… well, be doing anything helpful. I feel so useless." He sighed trying his best to get comfortable. It struck him then just how tired he still felt, his eyelids drooping even as he struggled to keep them open

"I think…" Robin winced mid yawn, his side hurting. "... think I'll try to get some more sleep… wake me… wake me when Lissa comes to check up on my wounds, would you not…"

"Of course. Get some rest," Lucina assured him, leaning in to kiss, her lips brushing against his. "I'll be right here if you need me."

Robin nodded and closed his eyes. It did not take long for sleep to find him

. . . . .

"Good to see you up and about. How's it feel?" Chrom asked as Robin hobbled over the chair that had been set out for him.

"Everything aches, but besides that I feel great," Robin grumbled, carefully lowering himself down, careful not to trip over his crutches. Lucina quickly stepped up beside him, gripping his arm to help him down. He nodded in thanks.

After Lissa had checked his injuries, and some debate, she had agreed that he was allowed out of bed on the condition that he was up for no more than an hour at any given time. Otherwise he was to remain in bed for the next few days, and after that to avoid strenuous activities for the next week. The crutches too were another condition on getting out of bed, which he had accepted after _only_ a couple minutes of bellyaching. And to believe people said he could be stubborn.

Chrom smirked at his comment, shaking his head in bemusement. "I am glad for any input you can give on what's happened while you were out of it and what we are going to do going forward."

Robin nodded. "Right. So what's been done so far?"

"Well, I've been coordinating with Morgan ever since you got back. Based on Lucina's account, it was decided that Morgan would take the Shepherds first to Haybrook to see if the refugees from Corgrove made it out," Chrom explained. "From there the plan was for them to enter the woods and clear out those monsters best they can."

Robin tensed, gripping the edge of his chair. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to breath slowly and try to relax. Morgan was a big girl and could handle herself well enough. If anyone was suited to route those… things, it would be she and her band of the second generation of Shepherds who had decided to stick around as active members.

"How long ago did they leave?" Robin asked.

"Yesterday morning. If things went as plan they should have left Haybrook some hours ago and reached the woods."

Robin nodded at Chrom's answer, folding his hands over his lap as he waited for the blue haired Exalt to continue.

"Meanwhile I have been readying soldiers to secure the area. I could use some help organizing that, if you feel up for it. But that is not what we really need to discuss," Chrom answered. He stood a step forward and then back as he finished, visibly anxious . If that wasn't enough, his grim expression told Robin all he needed.

"Has something else happened?" Robin asked.

"We don't know for certain, but… After Morgan left word reached us hear that another isolated village up north that hasn't been heard from."

Robin and Lucina exchanged looks, the surprise on her face telling him she had not heard this news either.

"Is this the only other case we have heard of?" he asked, turning back to Chrom.

"So far. Do you think it's the same as Corgrove?" Chrom asked, frowning.

"It has to be," Robin replied. "Gods, how many others are there? For all we know there could be a dozen, maybe even more, settlements that have met the same fate and it could be weeks before we realize it." Robin bit his lip, fighting the urge to curse.

"If you are sure, Robin, then that's enough for me." Chrom replied. "There must be something we can-"

Before he could finish there was commotion on the other side of the far doors. Muffled voices and thudding boots echoed through the throneroom, everyone freezing still. In unison both Chrom and Lucina went for their weapons hands wrapping around the hilt of their Falchions. Robin tensed, but could do little. He had not brought his sword or any of his tomes with him.

The either side of the doorway guards readied spears. For a moment nothing happened. Then there was a muffled voice on the other side that Robin could not make out. Clearly royal guardsmen managed to make out what was said, as they lowered their weapons and stepped forward to open the way.

Two more soldiers burst into the hall, supporting a ragged looking man between them. A step behind strode Frederick, the knight eyeing the stranger with wary suspicion. Coming to a stop he turned to Chrom and bowed graciously, before standing at attention with his hands folded behind his back

"M'lord, I apologize for the interruption, but this man claims to be a messenger from Southtown," he explained, indicating the man flanked by the guards. "He stumbled into the city half conscious, rambling that the town had been attacked."

"What? Chrom exclaimed, eyes going wide. "What happened?"

"Everything began to shake and there was a terrible roar." the man answered, his eyes wide and half delirious from fear and exhaustion. "The ground split open, spewing flame. Everything was lit, the whole countryside ablaze. Then the storm. The storm of light. A halo of lightning and glowing fog. That… that's when they came… the demons..."

Robin turned to look at Chrom and Lucina their expressions showing surprise and recognition in equal measure. They too clearly remembered the portal Naga had opened between the future and the past, and the destruction it had caused. Had someone traveled through time one again? Or was is from another world entirely? And for what purpose?

"Who attacked you? What were they?" Chrom urged, his tone urgent as it seemed the messenger veered on the edge of consciousness.

"I don't know. It was like our homes were being destroyed on their own. Like there was something we couldn't see. I tried but only got a glimpse. Men on fire, they looked like demonic spirits. Their burning eyes..."

The man's eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped unconscious, held aloft by the guards. At once Chrom instructed them to take the man to the healers, the guards hurrying off to obey at once, leaving the four of them alone at the center of the hall.

At that moment, however, all Robin could think about was the sorcerer who led the undead he and Lucina had encountered. A shadow surrounded by a halo of violet flame that could move unseen. They were the same. Whatever had done this, they must be the same.

"Did he say anything else?" Chrom asked, turning to Frederick

"Aye. M'lord," the knight replied. "As we carried him in he mentioned that he encountered the Shepherds on the road. Apparently Morgan had asked him to take this message here to Ylisstol while she and the others turned to go to Southtown's aid and face this threat."

Robin's blood turned to ice in his veins, fear and panic pulsing through him, stronger with each beat. Morgan's decision was a brave one: going to the aid of innocent lives even if doing so meant facing an unknown enemy. In her position Robin was sure he'd have done the same. But it didn't change the danger she was putting herself and the others in. Enemy size, capability, and tactics were all unknowns in this engagement, a lack of information which could prove deadly to even a seasoned commander.

Robin bolted out of his chair and rushed towards the door. Or rather he hobbled, forgetting his crutches in his haste. He managed only a handful of steps before he lost his balance, his legs buckling as he toppled to one side. Lucina was there at once, catching him before he could fall.

"Robin, what do you think you're doing?" Lucina and Chrom asked in unison, the Exalt hurrying over to the two of them.

"I need to help, need to make sure they are safe," Robin said. He tried to stand, only to collapse against Lucina the instant he tried to put weight on his injured leg. "Morgan is not ready for a battle like this. I know she could handle some brigands or group of Risen, but we have idea what they are getting into. They need me to-"

"You are in no condition to go anywhere," Lucina countered, throwing an arm around his shoulders to help keep him upright. "Hurt as you are, you will be more of a liability than of aid."

"But-"

"Southtown is over a day's march away, regardless. You won't make it in time to assist them even if you could," she added, cutting off his counter argument before it began. "Please, Robin, I know I am not the best example of this very advice, but think of your own well being for once. You need more rest, not another fight."

She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze and he saw the fear and worry in her eyes. "I am afraid for them too, but there is nothing we can do now. We have to pray they are ready. That's all we can do."

"Lucina is right. You are staying put, especially seeing that you couldn't make it five steps on your own," Chrom agreed, nodding his head solemnly. "Trust that Morgan, Marc, and the others can handle themselves."

"I… I'm… you're right," Robin relented, hanging his head sadly as Lucina helped him back to his chair. He slumped into it, gazing back out the door.

_Morgan… Marc… please, be careful._


	6. Invisible Flames

Lightning crackled around the vortex of liquid light. Like a massive whirlpool it churned and spun in the sky, drawing into a single point no more than six or seven feet wide where this reality seemed to end and another began. Through the shifting haze of violet light and the great distance little could be made out on the other side of the rift. Only vague outlines of shapes, waving and shimmering like a desert mirage.

The land below the portal burned, the split and cracked earth spitting tongues of flames. Southtown lay between them and the devastated fields, dark smoke rising in great plumes.

 _What could have caused this,_ Morgan wondered. She felt her hands clenched tight and shake. She couldn't tell if it was from anger or fear. Where did the rift lead? Another time? Or another world?

Tearing her gaze away from the scene she looked to the gathered Shepherds behind her. Since Grima's defeat the number of active members had fallen down to pre-war numbers. During the peacetime there was no need to recruit new members, their job mainly relegated to defeating the occasional band of brigands or the like. Most of the older generation had gone their separate ways. Only a handful remained, them members of a doomed future. Or doomed _futures_ , if herself and Marc were to be counted.

All those who still serving active duty were here now, being herself, Marc, Nah, Cynthia, Gerome, Kjelle, and Laurent. Yarne, paranoid as ever about his species' survival, had decided to go with his parents after the war and help watch over his younger self. Brady and Noire had stuck around for about a year before heading off together once it was clear Brady wished to pursue his career as a musician. As for the others…

Morgan winced, feeling the all too familiar ache that came whenever she thought about the night Inigo had left with Owain and Severa. While the pain had grown duller than it once had been, it was still there. It still hurt.

She shook her head, banishing the sour memory from her thoughts. She could not dwell on it now. No, right now she had to remain focused.

She weighed their options as quickly as she could. From what she could see there were still people trapped in the town, but of the invaders there was no sign. She thought back to the frantic description given to her my the messenger they'd met on the road, the 'invisible demons'. Whatever they were, such foes would be difficult to fight when sight could not be as easily relied upon.

There was a crunch of footsteps as Marc stepped up alongside her. Her brother was clad in clothes much like her mother's, but with a coat identical to her's and their father's. At his side Falchion was buckled, his hand gripped tightly around its hilt. His gaze on the smoldering town, expression appearing almost pained. "Morgan, what should we do?" he whispered softly, turning to her.

"I'm thinking," Morgan snapped. At once she regretted the harshness of her tone, having not intended to be that blunt. Perhaps she was more on edge than she thought.

Closing her eyes she sucked in a breath and blew it out again. _Right, you got this, Morgan. This is what you practiced with Father for. Time to show what you got._

"Alright, here's what we're going to do, people. I want Cynthia, Gerome, and Nah in the air locating survivors in the town and direct them away from danger. Your secondary goal is to keep watch for these demons or spirits, or whatever the messenger said they were. It sounds like they can be seen if you focus hard enough. That or go cross eyed, honestly I am not sure: try both to be safe," Morgan instructed before turning her attention to the others she had yet to address. "Meanwhile the four of us will go in on foot and engaged them best we can. Keep their attention while we get the townsfolk to safety. Got it?"

She got an assortments of nods and sounds of affirmation. Despite the circumstances Morgan could not help but smile at this a little. Alright, fine, it was more like a big stupid grin than a smile. It was just so cool to be the one giving orders and having people actually listening to her. Made her feel all grown up and important and stuff.

"Flyers should keep out of bow range from the ground. Even if you don't see anything doesn't mean it's not there," she continued. "Keep your attacks as precise as we can. Once we know the civilians are clear Marc, Laurent, and I can fill the area with our biggest spells. I figure that will be the best way to deal with things we can't see very well."

"Understood," Laurent said in confirmation. Next to him Marc nodded.

"Kjelle takes point, Laurent has backside watching duty. Let's move out."

Gusts buffeted the hilltop as the mounts of Cynthia and Gerome flapped their wings, taking off to climb high overhead.

Nah lingered on the hilltop for the briefest of moments, her hand slipping around Marc's. He squeezed it and they exchanged a silent look. Then Morgan's brother withdrew several steps, giving Nah space. There was a flash of rainbow light and in Nah's place was her dragon form. She leapt from the hill, wings spreading as she ascended to join the other flyers in the skies over the ruined town.

Morgan felt her jaw tighten and she looked away. The dull pang in her chest had returned. Seeing her brother and Nah together and happy… it hurt. It wasn't fair to them, she knew that, but she couldn't help but feel bitter. Bitter at the reminder of their relationship.

Without a word Morgan set off down the hill, letting her mind focus on the matter at hand. To let her lose herself in the thrill and fear of battle. To forget and do what needed to be done.

. . . . .

Morgan slowed her pace as they reached the entrance to the village. She listened intently, searching for any sign of life. Barely to be made out of the roar of burning building and the deep, throaty thrum of the rift could be heard the sound of muffled screams and shouts.

Every instinct urged Morgan to charge forward. People were in danger and needed help. But logic reined her in: it would be foolish to run in blind, especially when they had yet to spot their foes.

Morgan stopped dead in her tracks, holding up a hand to signal for the others to wait as well. Beyond the first ring of buildings one could only see smoke and the flicker of firelight. Other than that she could not see any sign of movement.

"We take it slow. Keep your eyes peeled and stick together. We need to-"

A soft, barely perceptible rustle of movement was the only warning Morgan had before the attack fell. She whirled around just in time to see what looked like a ripple in the air, vaguely man shaped, rush towards her. She leapt back, a sudden sharp, stinging pain drawing down her forearm. In a split second glance she saw a shallow line of red, like one would expect from a glancing sword blow.

"Arcwind!" A funnel of air slammed into the unseen assailant, visible as a pocket of nothingness against the green glow of the summoned vortex.

At that moment the surrounding air seemed to shift, the scene around them distorting and bending as if viewed from above a churning sea. For the briefest of instants Morgan glimpsed what looked to be a translucent silhouette of shadow, only for it to be lost in a rippling mirage within a blink of an eye.

One of the ripples lunged again, an invisible blade glancing off Morgan's breastplate with a _ping._

She slashed wildly with her sword, the ripples pulling out of reach before the blade could find any mark.

Besides her the other Shepherds were in equally dire straights, blind attacks hitting nothing but empty air. The only fortune was that none had sustained more than superficial wounds, but that could not last for long when fighting foes they could not see.

Morgan looked around wildly, frantically attempting to see her foes. But try as she might she just couldn't focus, couldn't see them. Panic gripped her chest and she swung blindly again. The blurs seems to flow around the attack, drawing another crimson line on the back of her hand.

She hissed in pain and pulled back, his heart hammering. She had to do something! How was she supposed to fight what she couldn't see.

_Couldn't see._

That was it! They had to hidden by something, something she could detect. It didn't matter if they were demons, spirits, or mere men, these things possessed physical forms. That enough was plain from how her spell had affected one and how the wounds they'd inflicted were no different from those dealt by normal weapons.

 _They must be cloaked in some sort of illusion spell,_ Morgan realized. Memories of one of her lessons with her father rushed to mind. She recalled how he'd explained that magic itself was type of energy just like light or heat, and could be felt if one focused enough. Every person was capable of this, even if they lacked any experience casting spells. Though in all fairness only those proficient with spellcraft typically had the experience to pick up on all but the strongest spells.

And something to hide this many enemies indefinitely would have to be really, really, powerful.

Letting out her breath she allowed her gaze to go unfocused, reaching out with her consciousness. Or at least, that's how it felt like to her. It was an off sensation, feeling with her mind beyond the reach of her body, feeling like she was spreading outward.

In that moment the world seemed to change, the indistinct blurs of movement becoming ghostly shadows. Flames of violet that gave off neither heat nor light burned around them in a halo, each it's own solar eclipse.

One of the phantom warriors lunged, curved blade falling in a crescent of glimmering steel. In an instant Morgan could see the figure clearly. He wore armor in design reminiscent of the warriors of Chon'san. His skin was pale gray, eyes burning with the same lightless glow as the flames that wreathed him.

This time Morgan was ready, deflecting the blow wide with her slender blade, all the while stepping in close and thrusting her empty hand towards her foe's chest. With a sound somewhere between a shout and a growl she unleashed a spell, the bolt of lightning knocking the spirit swordsman from his feet. The instant he hit the ground he evaporated in a plume of purple smoke which scattered in the wind.

"Don't try to look for them! Relax and focus on everything at once!" Morgan instructed, shouting over the crackling flames.

One by one the other Shepherds began to turn the tide, their attacks managing at last to find their intended targets. Even Kjelle seemed to manage, overcoming the illusionary effect in time to catch a sword blow on her shield and skewer her would-be attacker with her lance.

Now that she could see their foes, Morgan saw that the majority of the enemies wielded swords or strange lances with curved heads, more like a mix between a scimitar and a machete blade, suited for slashing and hacking than thrusts. Intermixed with the footsoldiers there were a handful of spellcasters, though they were unlike any she was familiar with. They wore robes that were remarkably similar to the yukatas her mother and a few of her friends had bought during their trip to the hotsprings years before, only heavier and with a thick belt tied in an ornate knot. Rather than tomes to channel elemental magic, these casters carried scrolls that rather summoned what could only be described as spirits in the shape of different animals. While vastly different, she honestly could not tell if they were any more or less effective than than type of magic she was used to.

At Morgan's command Marc and Kjelle drove forward into the center of the enemy lines while she and Laurent took the flanks, using spells to funnel the enemies inward towards the two skilled melee fighters.

For an instant it seemed like the phantom soldiers would hold. They dug in, standing their ground. Steel shrieked and clanged. Purple smoke mixed with the clouds of black spawned from the flames, one of the swordsmen falling, then another. Then like a piece of brittle iron bent too far, their defenses shattered: all cohesion lost as the remaining warriors fell back.

They did not make it far. Lighting flashed and fire crackled as spells split the air, joined by the glitter of steel as the four fell on their retreating foes. Not a single one escaped, the last one falling with a silent scream to vanish into dust.

"Everyone okay?" Morgan asked, exhaling a long sigh as she caught her breath. She grinned, even as her chest heaved. "That was easy, huh?"

"Just a scratch. Armor dented a bit." Kjelle said flatly, the heavy metal plates of her armor clanking as her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug.

"Only superficial injuries that need not any immediate medical attention in regards to myself," Laurent announced immediately after. His shoulder had been cut, but like the wound on Morgan's arm and hand it looked shallow enough. "Though perhaps it would be premature to profess the ease of our victory after only the initial engagement," he added, a point which Morgan chose to ignore. Way to be a party pooper, Laurent.

Rounding things off, Marc silently motioned to a dent in his left pauldron. He'd definitely be bruised, but thankful hadn't suffered any broken bones from the impact.

"Perfect. As I said, super easy." Grinning from ear to ear Morgan strutted forward, waving an arm wildly over her head. "Come on slowpokes, back into marching order. Don't want to be all disorganized and stuff before we run into more."

Sprinting after her, the other Shepherds fell back into line as they set out into the village. Up close the damage appeared even worse than expected. It seemed as though the ghostly invaders had been systematically tearing down each building one by one: either smashing it to rubble or merely igniting it. Some structures showed signs of both, with walls and roofs forced in where the flames had yet to reach.

It wasn't long before they encountered their first group of enemies inside the town. A small group was positioned around a half destroyed home, digging through the rubble. Screams and shouts cried out from within, muffled as if coming from underground.

_Some villagers must have taken refuge in a cellar only to become trapped when the roof came down on them!_

As one the Shepherds fell on the phantoms, cutting them down before they had a chance to muster any real defense. In the span of seconds each had dissolved into iridescent violet smoke that scattered on the wind.

"Laurent, cover us," Morgan instructed, hurrying towards the collapsed building and set to work. Within moments she, Marc, and Kjelle; well, mostly Kjelle, had cleared away a large portion of the rubble covering the cellar. The now freed townsfolk emerged, thanking their rescuers again and again so quickly that Morgan could scarcely make out any individual words. Once out in the light she saw that all of them were covered in dust and ash and looked dreadfully afraid, but otherwise unharmed. Good, no injuries.

"The way behind us is safe. Go that way and keep going until you're far away," Marc told them, stepping forward before Morgan had the chance. "Did any of you see what happened to your neighbors?"

"No, we lost sight of them when the fires started," a woman answered.

"Last I heard there was shouting down yonder, by the market," a man added, pointing down the street towards the worst of the damage.

"Thank you. Now, get to safety, we will make sure you aren't followed," Marc assured them. Without even a moment's hesitation the rescued townsfolk did as they instructed, hurrying off in the opposite direction towards the northern gate.

Morgan watched them go for a moment longer before turning away. Despite herself she could not help but feel a small twinge of annoyance- okay, fine, of jealousy seeing how naturally her brother had handled the panicked villagers. Despite his tendency to withdraw in on himself, her brother had a knack for talking to people, just like mother and father. Not that she was bad at it, mind you. She got along with people great. Just for _some_ reason people found her a tinsy bit aggravating. If anything it was because she was _too_ awesome.

 _Not the time, Morgan, not the time,_ chimed in the voice of reason that lived somewhere in her head. She loved that voice, very helpful.

Quickly as she could she ordered her friends back into formation, setting off the direction the villager had indicated. Along the way they encountered small pockets of resistance, all whom seemed focused on hunting down surviving civilians and were not prepared for a real fight. Each and every time they swept the phantom soldiers aside without so much as slowing their pace. Only when they came upon survivors did they stop, and only then long enough to direct them along the safe route behind. Cynthia, Gerome, and Nah wheeled overhead, directing the fleeing townsfolk away from danger, the passing of their flight scattering smoke and ash.

It was so that within only a dozen or so minutes the four reached the marketplace. It took only a instant's glance to see just had badly the area had been hit. Entire sections of the town lay in ruin, shops and market stalls reduced to smoldering rubble. With each step the smoke grew thicker, making it difficult to see.

Morgan faltered a step, smelling something new mixed with the ash and smoke. The metallic bite of blood wafted from the market. The winds shifted, revealing a dozen or more bodies slumped amongst the rubble. Blood soaked their clothes and those that did not lay face down started out with empty, dead eyes.

Morgan stopped dead in her tracks, the jubilation of their victories slipping away as she beheld the bodies. She felt her hands clenched tight, knuckles going white. She averted her gaze

If there was any comfort to be had it was that the dead's number was far too few to account for more than a small fraction of the town's population. Not that it made it any better. Not really. People had died.

 _If only we'd gotten here sooner. Maybe then they'd have-_ Morgan grimaced, unwilling to finish that thought. She couldn't think like that, couldn't waste time putting blame on something she couldn't have changed.

Next to her she heard Mark blow out a heavy breath, carrying with it a barely controlled anger. So too did a smoldering fury ignite within Morgan's chest, washing away the shock of horror brought by the sight.

The sound of flapping wings filled the air. Looking up Morgan watched as Cynthia swooped down on her pegasus, hovering just overhead. "We've spotted a lot of those things trying to break into the church across the bridge from here. Looks like a lot of the townsfolk are hiding there."

"Good work," Morgan said in thanks. She turned to the others. "You heard the girl, let's hustle."

Quickening their pace they scrambled through the ruined market, reaching the stone bridge breaching the canal that split the town down the center. On the other side was a old stone church, it's heavy wooden door barred shut. All around it swarmed a dozen of the phantom warriors, flinging spells and bashing weapons against the wooden gate in an attempt to break inside.

"Bolganone!"

The air shimmered in the centering of the soldiers besieging the doors, erupting into a fountain of flame and molten stonework. Lighting crackled as spells unleashed by Marc and Laurent lanced into the enemy line.

Caught entirely unawares the ghostly army reacted with utter confusion, some frantically whirling to face the attackers, other falling back to more defensible positions.

Metal clashed against metal as Marc and Kjelle smashed into the enemy lines, sword and spear striking down phantom swordsmen left and right. Meanwhile Morgan and Laurent continued their magical barrages, striking out against foes at the edge of the melee. However, even disorganized, the sheer number of the invisible soldiers present allowed them to hold their ground, so at times the fighting was two or three on one. Their retreat slowed and they dug in their heels, grinding the advance of the Shepherd's melee fighters to a halt.

For a moment Morgan feared the tide would turn against them and they'd be overwhelmed.

A roar split the air.

Morgan looked up just in time to see Nah swoop down towards the battle, bathing a cluster of enemy soldiers in iridescent green flames. Behind dove Cynthia and Gerome, lance and axe picking off any who attempted to encircle the earthbound Shepherds.

 _Wow, perfect timimg,_ Morgan grinned. Redoubling her efforts, she flung spells with new vigor.

The enemy lines collapsed. Those in the rear turned tail and fell back, while those in the front still locked in combat fought with new ferocity that may have been born of desperation, but may not have. Either way, the intention was clear: buy time while the rest fell back and regrouped.

"Cynthia! Gerome! Nah! Get the people in the church away from the battle! We'll take on this lot," Morgan shouted.

Trusting the two to do as she'd instructed, Morgan spared not even so much as a backward glance. The Shepherds drove the phantoms back, pushing them away from the remaining townsfolk and towards the south gate.

The gap between the fleeing army and the pursuers began to widen, in no small part to the near-preternatural speed the ghostly soldiers seemed capable of. But right then it did not matter if they escaped or not. No, all that mattered now was banishing these monsters from the town.

The gate loomed before them, little more than an open archways in the low wall that encircled the settlement. Spells smashed into the enemy rear, tossing a handful of stragglers like smoldering ragdolls. Then the last of them fell back through the gate and out into the burning fields beyond.

Morgan slowed to a halt, gasping for air. Besides her the others did the same, Marc even plopping himself down on the pavement as he fought to catch his breath. Despite herself Morgan couldn't help but laugh. They were sweaty, covered in ash and smoke, tired, and more than a bit bloody, but they'd won. Southtown was free.

The flapping of wings alerted the return of the flyers. The turbulence created by their flight was quite pleasant actually. Did as well a job cooling her off as a nice breeze would have.

"Morgan, looks like the townsfolk have made it out of the village," Cynthia chimed, her pegasus alighting onto the stone walkway next to them. "Gerome is going to tail them overhead for a bit until they're further out, then circle back to us.

Morgan nodded. She opened her mouth to say more, only to be interrupted by a _whoosh_ of rushing air and flapping of great wings as Nah descended in a open space next to them. The instant her claws touched the pavement she began to glow, her scaled body dissolving like petals scattered in a breeze until her diminutive humanoid form stood in it's place.

"I've been keeping watch on the enemy movements. It's hard to say, but it looks to me like they are withdrawing out of the town and back to the portal."

"Good work, Nah," Morgan replied, nodding to the manakette in thanks.

"So what's our next move, we going to go after them or what?" Cynthia asked cheerily.

Morgan frowned thoughtfully at this question, rubbing her chin with a hand. "For now we hold here, the town will provide a better position than the fields outside. Once Gerome gets back I want Cynthia and Nah to go with him and scout the area around the portal before we do anything else."

Getting a few murmurs of agreement the other Shepherds did as they were told, for the moment leaving Morgan to herself.

A grin spread across Morgan's face, stretching from ear to ear. She couldn't help it: the battle had gone just as planned and without a single serious injury among her friends. She had even taken the more conservative stance of waiting rather than chasing after a fleeing foe of unknown capabilities. She had every right to be proud of herself. She'd earned it.

Her smile faltered. She could be proud, right? Hadn't she done everything right?

Morgan found her gaze drawn to the portal hanging in the sky, a second unnatural sun that cast a fell violet pallor over the world. Worry nagged at the back of her head, a tiny voice warning against allowing their foes the time to retreat and regroup.

In normal circumstances it would be foolish to chase after a fleeing foe without sufficient information. Enemy numbers, positions, potential reinforcements, terrain, all of things would take time and careful scouting to determine, and to go in without them could mean the difference between routing the enemy and walking into an ambush. It was a lesson she'd learned time and time again in games of strategy played between she and her father. It was a trap she was loath to walk into again, especially when more was at stake than just losing a game.

_But..._

But this was different, wasn't it? These were not normal enemies who were bound by the usual movements of armies. More of them could come through the portal at anytime, so wouldn't it be critical to shut the portal before that could happen? If they waited now there was the risk that there would be too many for she and the other Shepherds to handle on their own. Perhaps victory would still be possible once help arrived from Ylisstol, but how much destruction would be caused in the intervening time?

Morgan looked around to at the ravaged city, her eyes falling over the collapsed buildings and the rubble. To the smoke rising like clouds of ink into the sky. To the bodies that lay here and there, people they had arrived too late to save. She shuddered, shutting her eyes, not wanting to see it, not wanting to imagine it happening again.

No, she could end this now. Before any of this could happen again. The enemy was on the retreat and if she moved fast enough she could route them before reinforcements could come through the portal. She'd already beaten them, so why stop short of finishing the job?

"Everyone, change of plans," Morgan announced, turning back to her friends. "We are going after them. Now is our best chance at shutting the portal before they can regroup."

"Are you sure, isn't it a bit risky?" Marc asked, speaking up before the others. Her brother eyed her cautiously, as if trying to read the reason behind her change in plans.

"Well of course it will be, but I know we can handle it!" Morgan answered, flashing him a grin. "Worst case they bring reinforcements through the portal before we reach it. So we'll just be careful and if we see it starting to glow or it makes weird noises we can withdraw to a safe distance. Easy."

For the briefest of moments Marc looked uncertain. Then his face relaxed and he dipped his head in a quick nod. "Alright, I guess that makes a lot of sense. Right behind you, Morgan." Marc smiled as he finished. Her brother trusted her, and that alone was enough for Morgan.

"Alrighty then, everyone get ready. Once we're all done catching our breaths we're going to show these guys why it's such a frankly dumb as bricks idea to mess with Ylisse."

. . . . .

Once Gerome had returned with the news that the townsfolk were far out of harm's way, Morgan set out at once with the Shepherds in tow. As most of them made their way on foot those with flying mounts (or could fly themselves, in the case of Nah) wheeled high overhead, tracking the enemy movements.

The land gradually sloped upward for about mile, before dropping back down towards sea level. There they would have a good view of the burning plains surrounding the rift, and with luck the full extent of the enemy forces they were to face.

The steady thrum of the portal grew louder with each step closer, until soon they were even close enough to make out the the crackle and snap of lightning dancing around it's edge.

Reaching the crest of the hill, Morgan called for a halt. Through the smoke of the ghostly werelight the phantom army was plain to see now. Out in the open fields they had reformed ranks to put up a fresh defense, formations of shimmering shadows amongst smoke and flames. Behind them Morgan could just make out a second group, appearing as little more than a distortion as light bending through the ocean waves. From their positioning and the slow, steady rate at which the mirage glided over the field she guessed this was no disorganized retreat. No, clearly this was purposeful: keeping to a defensive formation even as they withdrew.

 _The front line must be intending to buy the rear time, perhaps to regroup with reinforcements,_ Morgan realized. _We can't give them that chance. We move now._

With a motion of her hand to signal their advance, the attack began. In unison Morgan and Marc launched their strongest spells, Bolganone and Thoron smashing into the enemy positions on either flank. Dirt and ash thrown high in the sky, rained down amongst the bodies of the phantoms caught in the blasts. An instant later Laurent unleashed a cascading wave of wind towards the center line. Spread out over a wide swath as it was, it had little direct effect, which was never its intention. It's true purpose had been to kick up a cloud of smoke and ash directly into the enemy position, blinding them for the few, precious moments needed to close the gap.

With a roar of clashing steel the Shepherds smashed into the first line of defenses. Once more Marc and Kjelle went first, the two skilled melee combatants striking down multiple foes each in a matter of moments. Gerome, Nah, and Cynthia rained down death from above while Morgan and Laurent unleashed spell after spell.

At first the battle turned quickly in the Shepherd's favor. Back and back they pushed the retreating enemy forces, ever closer to the portal from which they'd come. Spells smashed ranks, scattering tighter formations. Gerome and Cynthia swooped again and again, picking off those cut off from the main lines, all the while Nah harried the rear with shimmering green dragonfire.

With each passing moment the enemy became more and more in disarray. While by all appearances each phantom soldier lacked the ability to lose composure or even the capacity to feel fear, their actions became more desperate and aggressive. It was as if they were guided by an unseen force that saw how the battle had turned, and was prepared to throw away as many of his forces as necessary to regain control of the fighting.

Yet despite every effort, it was painfully clear to any who'd have looked upon the battle in that moment that the invisible army had lost. They were in retreat, easy pickings for the battle hardened Shepherds who had been through the living hell of a doomed future.

"We have them!" Morgan shouted over the turmoil. They'd won, there was no mistaking it. Her gamble had paid off. All she needed to do was finish the job. "Don't let up. Keep pushing until we reach the portal. They have nowhere left to run!"

Morgan grinned as she finished her orders, sending a burst of flame to incinerate a charging swordsman. The one besides managed to dodge the worst of the blast, managed to stagger forward and close the last few steps. Steel rang as Morgan parried slash, countering with a cut that open the bicep of the soldier. The counter was painfully slow, so much so that Morgan dodged it with little effort. She knocked his blade out wide, leaving him wide open. With a shout she drove forward, her blade falling down on the exposed phantom swordsman.

It was at that exact moment that several things happened all at once. The phantom warriors retreating from the fighting wheeled around, the disorganized mob stepping together to form tighter ranks. Those already engaged with the Shepherds who had seemed an instant from breaking suddenly regained their composure in a blink of an eye.

The soldier Morgan had thought defenseless moved with blinding speed it had not possessed before, parrying the finishing blow with such strength that it sent shockwaves up her arm. Steel rang out and Morgan staggered a step, on the defensive as she struggled to regain her footing. The ghostly army surged forward like a silent tide of steel and phantom flames, driving the Shepherds back with a ferocity they had not possessed before.

In the brief instants between frantic parries Morgan's mind raced. _This doesn't make sense! They weren't this strong a moment ago! How did they-_

A deep, bass _thrum_ rolled over the battlefield, reverberating like the peals of a great gong. The portal overhead cracked and rippled, the storm of energy swirling with quickening speed. Light flashed and the portal widened, dozens of translucent, burning forms leaping forth to join the fighting before Morgan could even so much as register what had happened. There should have been more time, more warning before reinforcements could come through!

Then the pieces clicked into place, sudden panic seizing hold of Morgan's heart as she realized _exactly_ what had occurred. They had been played, since the very first engagement. Their foes had let themselves be defeated, holding back so that the Shepherds would think them weaker than they actually were. They had even gone as far to allow a great many of their own number to be killed to maintain the illusion. All so she would be lured into a false sense of security and overextend. And in that moment the trap had been sprung.

"Fall back!" Morgan shouted, screaming as loud as she could. Her throat burned, torn raw by the volume of her order, but she did not care. She had to make sure they all heard. Had to make sure they all got out before it was too late.

In an act of desperation Morgan threw herself forward, locking her and her opponent's blades between them. Pulling her shoulders back she slammed her forehead into her opponent's face. Stars flashed before eyes and a sudden shock of pain and dizziness swarmed through her forehead, but she ignored it. She had a lot of practice bashing her head against stuff.

Her opponent, phantom or not, clearly lacked such experience. It recoiled back, dazed by the impact.

"Bolganone!" Morgan screamed, thrusting a hand behind her stunned foe. The space behind them exploded in a burst of molten earth and a wave of force that slammed into the surrounding phantoms like an invisible fist. The ghost warrior in front of her took the brunt of the spell, shielding her from the worst of the heat even as he slammed into her. The world spun around her as she tumbled and bounced across the ground before skidding to a stop several feet away.

For a moment she lay there, bruised body aching and skin raw from numerous scrapes. A voice in her head screamed at her to get up, louder and louder until she couldn't bear it anymore. She groaned, staggering to her feet. Something wet dripped down into an eye, and when she brought her hand to her forehead her fingers came away red. The wound stung at her touch, but it did not seem to be that deep or life threatening.

While her attack had managed to scatter the phantom soldiers around her they were quickly regrouping, moving rapidly into position to flank her on either side rather than charge her. In the confusion she'd been separated from the others. She could still see Cynthia, Gerome, and Nah engaged with enemy pegasus riders… wait, when did those get here? Portal. Right. That's bad. But she didn't see Laurent, Kjelle, or her brother anywhere nearby. The sound of fighting nearby was the only indication she had that they still lived, but right now she couldn't afford to worry about them in that moment.

"Arcthunder!"

Bolts of lightning lanced down into the enemy ranks, obliterating one of the ghost soldiers. A tingle ran down Morgan's spine, her skin alight as one of the enemy spellcasters countered with one of their strange spirit-like spells, this time in the shape of a raging bull of crimson flames. Morgan threw herself into a roll, narrowly avoiding the magical attack. Coming to her feet she incinerated the attacker with a gout of flame before he had a chance to cast again, the phantom dissolving with a silent scream.

Whirling around Morgan found herself surrounded, translucent shadows against a halo of ghostly flames closing in all around her. She was trapped.

Her blood seemed to freeze in her veins, a hand of icy fear squeezing her heard. The only comfort was the hope that the others had gotten away, that they would not die for her mistake.

She raised her sword, holding it before her in a defensive guard her mother favored. She took a deep breath, preparing to hold her ground for as long as she may, to perhaps buy a few seconds for her friends and brother.

Then the phantom soldiers charged.


	7. Shifting Tides

"Bolganone!"

Molten stone burst skyward from beneath the feet one of the invisible warriors, consuming him in an instant. Those beside him stumbled and fell under the hail of magma that rained back down. For an single heartbeat they thrashed then fell still, dissolving away into iridescent mist.

Whirling around, Morgan parried a strike aimed at her back. Deflecting the follow up, she dispatched the soldier with a thrust to the throat before spinning yet again to face _another_ foe.

_There are too many!_

Again and again they came at her, their numbers so great soon Morgan could do little but defend. Blades clashed in a near constant barrage of ringing steel. Sparks flew and danced all around, each blow sending jarring pain up her arm.

 _Clang, clang, shincht!_ Morgan yelped in pain as a sword sliced into her shoulder.

 _Clang, clang, shing, shing, clang, shunck._ A lance pierced her thigh. Gasping Morgan slipped to one kneel. With a shout she threw up her hand, summoning a gale that threw her attackers back.

Panting and gasping she tried to stand only to stumble and fall back to her knees. She looked down, seeing her pants stained with blood. The wound was bad, not so much that it could incapacitate her on it's own, but bad enough that it sapped at her already fading strength. She couldn't go on, couldn't keep fighting like this.

All around the living shadows slid tall once more, darting forward as if gliding on oiled silk. Morgan readied a spell, gathering up what power she had left. She just hoped the others had made it. That at least would be fitting. If anyone had to die in the trap, it should be the one who led them into it.

A sudden battle cry rang out, clear and loud over the roar of the flames. Blue and gray blurred before Morgan's eyes as Marc barreled into view, Falchion glinting white as it struck down foe after foe in a whirlwind of razor steel.

Her brother bled from multiple wounds, yet moved as though he could not feel them, moving with a fury she had not seen in him.

"Get away from my sister!" Marc bellowed, gripping Falchion with both hands as he cleaved a spearman from shoulder to hip, rending the spear shaft the phantom held up to block. With a snarl Marc lashed out with a hand curled into a claw. "Ignis!" Crimson lightning struck in a blinding lance, blowing away a formation of swordsmen before they could close the gap and replace their fallen comrades.

Without an instant's hesitation Marc spun on his heels, pressing a hand against the ground to steady himself as he practically scrambled over to Morgan.

"Marc, what are you-" Morgan started to ask.

"No time, came back for you," Marc said, speaking his answer to the interrupted question so quickly that Morgan nearly missed what was said. Reaching out he grabbed her hand, heaving her upright. "Let's go!"

They set off into a run, Marc pulling her along with him. Behind the phantoms gave chase while yet others closed in on either side. One leapt as them, translucent sword held high, only to be cut down as Marc parried and countered in a single fluid movement.

"Left!" Marc shouted.

Morgan snapped her hand out in time with the warning, unleashing a stream of fire to engulf the spearman who'd launched a flanking assault.

"Thoron!"

Marc's spell smashed through a trio of phantom warriors who attempted to bar their path, throwing them aside like children's playthings. Marc's stride lengthened as he broke into a full run, pulling Morgan along with him. Her wounds stung and ached but she had to ignore it now. They were almost in the clear, just had to-

"Morgan, look out!" Marc warned.

Before Morgan could even turn to see what was coming Marc shoved her away, even as he threw himself back in the opposite direction.

A shockwave of dark magic ripped through the space the two of them had occupied an instant before. The ground cracked and rippled as if it had been turned to jelly, violet flames spewing forth as it began to split. Then an invisible hand of force slammed into her, flinging her back through the air. She landed hard, her head banged against the ground. Lights flashed before her eyes and she tasted copper.

For how long she lay there, Morgan did not know whether it be hours, minutes, or mere seconds. Her head throbbed with pain, dulling her thoughts. She struggled to draw her focus together. What was she doing? She couldn't quite remember… a battle… Marc… she had too. Groaning Morgan opened her eyes finding herself face down in the dirt. The pain splitting her skull grew worse, she must have hit her head harder than she thought. But… that didn't matter now. She had to focus, had to...

Morgan lifted her head just in time to see a single invisible soldier strode forward. He stood a head taller than the rest, his translucent, shadowy form further obscured by a black hooded cloak. For a moment as he moved Morgan caught a glimpse of white and gold lacquer beneath the shifting cloth. In his hand he wielded a curved blade of a crudely cut black crystal surrounded in a haze of noxious purple mist the same hue as the shockwave that had struck just moments ago. Unlike the rest of his form the sword did not seem to ripple and flicker like a mirage, as if it was wholly physical. Yet even still the very sight of it was unsettling, extruding a powerful sense of dread that lacked any one source. It felt wrong, completely and utterly wrong.

None of the other ghostly figures made a single move. They had already formed a loose ring around the twins and the cloaked figure, trapping them once more. In the distance the battle still raged, phantoms rushing left and right to engage the retreating Shepherds.

Morgan struggled to stand, only for her limbs to give out just as she rose to one knee. She collapsed forward, the world spinning as her head throbbed. Her stomach churned and she feared she would be ill.

Some distance away Marc staggered to his feet. He swayed a step and shook his head, then steadied, his once dazed expression now alert.

It was not a moment too soon either, for in that instant the cloaked figure was upon him. Marc side stepped a lightning fast slash of the dreadful crystalline blade, it's edge coming a hair's breadth from Marc's arm. The next attack came across towards his neck, Marc ducking low just in time to avoid losing his head. He snatched up Falchion from the dirt, the blade erupting into white, ethereal flame, an effect unique to the once corrupted incarnation of the sword that he wielded. He leapt upright, bringing Falchion up to meet the blade in a clash of light and shadow.

There was a sound like the breaking of glass and the crystal sword shattered. For an instant Morgan felt her heart lift, sure that her brother had won. But wait, something was wrong: the hooded swordsman did not look surprised. And the shards did not seem to fall, instead hanging in the air as they spun away from the impact.

Marc saw it too, leaping back instead of pressing what most would have taken as a huge advantage. As that moment the shards snapped forward, slicing through the empty space Marc's body had occupied an instant before to embed themselves in the dirt.

Bracing a hand against the ground Marc skidded to a stop. With a shout he bounded forward, slashing at the hooded figure. The swordsman moved in a blur, drawing a silvery sword like those the other phantoms had used, only inlaid with gold, from somewhere inside his cloak. He deflected Marc's attack is a single fluid move, the blade sailing harmlessly aside.

In the span of seconds the two blades met is a avalanche of blows and a parries. The two moved so fast it was difficult for Morgan to even track, but after only the first few attacks she could tell her brother was in trouble. Marc was one of the best swordsmen she'd ever met, only surpassed by her mother, grandfather, and a few others among the older generation of Shepherds. But it was all to plain this phantom warrior was better. His movements so graceful they seemed effortless, while Marc had to struggle to keep pace.

Suddenly the hooded swordsman drove forward, pushing Marc off balance. He whipped his blade around the other side, far quicker than Marc could hope to move his blade to parry in time. But Marc did not try to block, instead he thrusted his free hand out. A bolt of lightning, little more than a simple thunder spell, lanced into the phantom's side. He reeled back, knocked off balance. That was the openned Marc needed, Falchion slipping inside the swordsman's guard and scoring a deep gash on his side.

Staggering back the hooded phantom disengaged, calmly regaining his balance and straightening as composure returned. He pressed a hand to his wound then pulled it away. Instead of blood the cut leaked wisps of violet smoke.

"Ha. I see, you utilize your full talents through the use of magic to catch your opponents off guard," noted a strange, distorted voice. It took Morgan an instant to realize that the hooded man was the one talking. It sounded almost like one attempting to speak underwater, only clearer. As if if one had merged it with normal speech. "It is rare to find one so skilled at such a young age."

Without warning the hooded figure sprung forward sword up and at the ready. He darted left and right, deftly avoiding the crescent blasts of Marc's Elwind spell. In a blur of movement the attack fell. There was a clash of steel and a spray of blood. The blade had slipped in after the first parry, quicker than Marc could react, finding it's mark to leave a deep gash down the length of his arm.

"Marc!" Morgan screamed. She struggled to stand, managing to stagger a single step before collapsing to her knees. Her head swam but she ignored it, dragging herself forward on all fours.

Marc's face twisted in pain as he turned his head to look at her. For an instant their eyes met, then his expression hardened. He whirled around and leapt at the swordsman, launching a ferocious counterattack. Falchion and the golden sword danced in a barrage of glancing collisions in the span of a heartbeat. Once twice, three times, and more Marc managed to keep pace, only for each movement to come slower than the last. With a burst of strength Falchion was knocked wide, the curved blade swinging low to dig deep in Marc's thigh.

He screamed in pain, staggering back before falling to one knee, blood leaking from between his fingers as he clutched at the wound. The swordsman did not pause, advancing slowly toward him with blade held out in preparation to strike.

With a effort of sheer will, Morgan staggered upright, forcing her sluggish and aching limbs to obey her commands. She charged forward, knowing that with thoughts foggy and dulled as they were she could not muster the concentration needed to cast a spell, not without time and effort she did not have. She hefted her sword, her body screaming in protest. She had to reach her brother. She had to get to him in time. It was her fault he came back for her. It was her mistake.

Marc's eyes drifted over to Morgan, an apology held in his gaze. He stumbled upright, resting most of his weight on his uninjured leg. Calmly his lifted Falchion up, holding it parallel to his body in a guard.

Then in unison the two swordsmen clashed one final time. Their blades screeched deflecting off one another in a showing of sparks. With the swiftness of the wind the hooded swordsman's blade shot inward. Marc made no move to defend himself, time seeming to slow to a crawl. Droplets of blood splashed against the earth as the two stood motionless, the phantom's sword plunged deep into Marc's side.

Morgan faltered a step, and for a moment she couldn't think. She couldn't even breath.

_No._

Then she saw smoke curling from within the swordsman's cloak, stunning violet in the werelight. Then she saw the glint of Falchion's tip protruding from the phantom's back. The blade had been driven to the hilt through the chest of the hooded figure.

"Impressive. You left yourself open for a chance to strike," said the distorted voice. Then at once the phantom's body glowed and collapsed into a wave a mist that spread outward to vanish in a single instant.

A small, relieved smile tugged at the corners of Marc's lips. He took a single step. Then he toppled sideways, crumpling motionless in the dirt.

Everything seemed to stop, all sound dying away. Morgan screamed Marc's name, but heard nothing but a shrill ringing in her ears. Her legs carried her forward without her even realizing it, until before she knew it she had dropped to her knees next to her brother's still form. She shook him but he did not stir or even move at all. Desperately she searched for a pulse but her hands were shaking too much. She couldn't tell if it was there or not.

_Oh gods. Oh gods, there was so much blood. It was all her fault. All of it her fault._

Before she could do anything more there was movement at the edge of her vision. She looked up just in time to see the phantom warriors who'd watched on motionless had suddenly sprung forward, charging with weapons drawn.

"Get away from him!" Morgan screamed. Holding out both hands she poured every ounce strength, anger, fear, and potential grief into her spell. A blast of flames roared out, incinerating a section of the ghostly shadows closing in. Again and again she fired spells, not caring of the toll it would take on her mind and body.

"Die, die, die, die!" she screamed. Each blast sent clouds of ash skyward, raining down in a shower of embers and black haze. Soon the word seemed little more than a void of smoke

and flickering shadows that closed in all around.

Morgan shouted one last time, her spell ripping through the darkness. Then she collapsed forward, gasping and sobbing on all fours. She couldn't move. She was spent.

"I'm so sorry, Marc. I'm so, so, so sorry." She looked over to her brother's still form through tear filled eyes. She reached out to him, stretching her arm as far as she could, only to find him just out of reach. She tried to move closer but even that seemed too hard.

Shadows loomed over her, blades glinting as they slid through smokin ash. Morgan looked one last time at her brother's face and closed her eyes.

A roar echoed overhead, drowning all other sound in an echoing retort. A blast of wind rushed overhead, scattering the haze. Morgan looked up just in time to see Cynthia swoop low on her pegasus, skewing a phantom on her last. An instant later Nah wheeled past, bathing a swath of the enemy army in her dragon breath.

"Morgan, we need to go! The others are falling back to the town together. We need to regroup!" Cynthia shouted, striking again and again and the invisible warriors seeking to overwhelm them.

"Marc is hurt. He needs a healer. Get him to Laurent, please!" Morgan pleaded.

Cynthia glanced back, eyes going wide as she saw Marc's motionless form. "Nah!" she shouted.

At once Nah dove towards the ground, wings spreading to slow her descent at the last moment. Another roar, this one laced with anguish, fell from the manakete's maw. With surprising dexterity she gently scooped Marc up in her clawed talons, taking off at once.

Morgan watched as she climbed out of reach, banking left and right to avoid a volley of arrows and spells from the phantom forces.

"Morgan, let's go!" Cynthia repeated. Her pegasus wheeled around, Cynthia leaning out of her saddle to stretch a hand out to Morgan.

With an burst of effort Morgan grabbed hold, heaving herself up even as Cynthia did the same, pulling her up onto the saddle. Scrambling into place behind her, the pegasus began to climb. A handful of arrows whizzed past narrowly missing the two of them as they soared out of the range of the enemy bows.

"Vulnerary in the left saddlebag," Cynthia told her.

Nodding Morgan found the small glass vial, unstopping the cork with her teeth and downed a mouthful. At once she felt some of her strength return, the throbbing in her head and the ache in her limbs receding.

"Thanks. That helped," Morgan muttered, her words stilted.

"No problem," Cynthia answered. While the usual energy was still there Morgan noted that the pegasus knight's voice lacked much of it's usual cheer. Though given the situation she supposed that was to be expected.

"Sorry the rescue took so dang long, but we had a lot of enemy pegasus knights to deal with. Once we drove them off Gerome went with Laurent and Kjelle as the retreated back to the town, while me and Nah went to find you and Marc. Seems like we were lucky to arrive when we did."

Morgan nodded but did not otherwise reply. Below southdown came into sight, smoke still climbing from the smoldering wreckage of ruined homes and shops. Cynthia's pegasus banked left, circling as it began it's descent. Soon Morgan could make out the others, having taken up position in a narrow road between two still intact buildings.

As soon as they touched down Morgan swung her legs over the side of Cynthia's mount and leapt onto the pavement, staggering several steps before she regained her footing.

A few feet away Laurent and Nah knelt over Marc. Nah clutched the bloody hand of Morgan's brother, tears in her eyes. At the same time Laurent channeled a healing spell from the staff held in the sage's hands. While not the most skilled healer in the use of staves, Laurent was proficient and made up with it through extensive knowledge and skill in non-magical forms of healing.

"Marc!" Morgan shouted, rushing forward. She managed only a few steps before Gerome stepped in her way, holding out an arm to block her passage.

"Move! I need too-"

"No. You don't," Gerome interrupted. His face, or what part of it remained hidden behind a mask, was unreadable and devoid of any emotion. "Laurent needs space to work if your brother has any chance of living through this. For his sake do not interfere."

"But I…" Morgan bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her fists so hard that her hands began to shake. This… this was her fault, she'd been stupid, and dumb, and overconfident and… she should be there now, helping somehow. If he died and she couldn't…

A choked sob fell from Morgan's throat. Then another. She turned away from her brother, she had no choice other than to so. She had to trust Laurent's abilities in healing. Besides, she had failed enough for today.

Looking around she saw that everyone else had made it, but not unscathed. She only noticed it now but Cynthia, Gerome, Nah, and Laurent all sported an assortment of new gashes and bruises. Kjelle was in worse shape: her armor dented and broken in several places, red splattering the grey and purple metal. Even as she watched the knight slowly removed sections of the damaged plate, her movements stilted and seeming to come with great pain, to tend to her many injuries.

Everyone had gotten hurt, all because she had been too zealous, too ready to rush in and end the threat. Only now she saw the fill extent of her carelessness. She had acted on too many assumptions, like jumping to the conclusion that gathering reinforcements from the portal would take the enemy time. It hadn't even crossed her mind that they were capable of doing so at any time and were only waiting as to lead the Shepherds into a trap. So too had she taken the first engagements as all the evidence she needed to gauge the capabilities of their foes.

Perhaps it had been nothing but arrogance. She had not allowed herself to even consider that the victory in the town had come as a result of anything but her own actions. She hadn't even conceived the possibility that they had been playing her from the start.

Morgan slumped to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees and waited. She felt numb, as if all sensation had been shut down to shield herself against the guilt and, worst still, the shame of her failure. It was so that she was barely aware of Laurent's approach. Still she did not stir, not until she felt a hand grip her shoulder and give her a gentle shake.

"I've done all I can. His condition is poor, but he is alive for the preset," Laurent said as she looked up at him, answering her question before she'd even had the chance to voice it. "We need to get him out of the open and inside. Come."

Nodding, Morgan silently stood and shuffled over to the others. With a stretcher made from a spare cloak and some wooden planks they carried Marc into one of the still intact homes. Clearing off a bed, they gently placed him on it. A weak groan barely more than a whisper fell from Marc's lips, his breathing faint and shallow.

For a time no one spoke, Laurent stooping down over Marc to tend to his injuries. Seconds ticked into minutes. Not once had Nah left Marc's side through the ordeal, her face overflowing with worry as she held onto his hand as if clinging for dear life.

"So, do we have a plan?" To the shock of everyone it was Gerome who broke the silence. The normally reserved wyvern rider stared at Morgan, his piercing gaze felt even through his mask.

Morgan looked away, shaking her head. "Nothing. At this point we're better off just waiting for help to come."

"What? Are you just saying we give up?!" Kjelle snapped, her lips twisting into an indignant scowl. She clutched at her side and tried to rise, the sneer turning to a pain grimace. "I am not going to cower when we should be out there fighting."

"There's no point, they've already beaten us. We're down Marc and all of us are hurt," Morgan countered. She sighed and closed her eyes. "I led us into a trap. The signs were all there and I was too arrogant to see them. We go in again and I'll only get more people hurt."

A fist slammed into the side of Morgan's face slamming her to one side. She staggered a step than fell, catching herself with one arm. She hissed in pain, bringing a hand up to her stinging cheek. The tips of her fingers brushed against the corner of her lip, coming away red.

To her complete and utter shock, she saw it was Cynthia who was standing over here. The young pegasus knight had both hands resting on her hips, her brow furrowed and nose scrunched up in her best approximation of an intimidating glare.

"What was that f-" Morgan started to ask, only for Cynthia to interrupt, her voice loud enough to fill the entire room.

"Shame on you Morgan, giving up just because you made one little mistake. You're a member of the Justice Cabal, and a hero doesn't wallow in self pity. They get up at try again," Cynthia scolded, wagging a finger at her. "Keep this up and I might even think you aren't cut out to be a member anymore, especially when you are making the rest of us ashamed to call you part of the Justice Cabal."

Anger rose in Morgan's throat. She staggered upright. "What Justice Cabal? Owain is gone and without Marc we're the only ones in the stupid club."

"Last I checked, Marc's not dead, Morgan. And he's not going to die at all unless you insist on sitting here and doing nothing while an army builds outside," Cynthia countered. "Yes, you made a tinsy mistake, but you were right about something. They _can_ bring reinforcements through that hole thingy. If we wait for help to come it will be too late. Now get off your sorry behind, and act like our leader and not the sorry excuse you are right now."

Morgan averted her gaze, not wanting the show the look of shame that had fallen over her features. Cynthia's words had cut deeper, far deeper than Morgan would have expected. Perhaps it was because they were right; she was acting like a poor leader.

She looked over to where Marc lay, still clinging to life. He'd gotten hurt trying to save her, yet in return she'd moped and felt sorry for herself. That's not what he would want. If he hadn't been injured he would likely be right there with Cynthia telling her to try again.

Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, Morgan stood. "That really hurt, you know," she told Cynthia, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sniffle escaping her throat.

"I think you were supposed to slap her, not punch her," Gerome noted, glancing over to the pegasus knight.

"Oh, I know!" Cynthia beamed as she replied, doing the little excited hop she was prone to when proud of herself. "I just figured if it worked for my mom when she hit dear ol' dad for moping about, it would work great for me. Keep the tradition alive and what not." Her grin spread wider still and she hopped again. "So you have a plan now?" she asked, her gaze falling on Morgan once more.

"I think so, working on the details," she gazed over each of them, sizing up their injuries. "Right now we are in no shape for a head on attack, or to really fight a big battle of any kind. But that's okay, since right now all we need to do is get the portal closed."

"Correct. If my summation is accurate a large enough magic shock should destabilize the spell framework holding the rift open. Provided we get close enough the two of us working in tandem should be capable of providing such a disruption," Laurent said, nodding in agreement.

_Good, he picked up on what she was getting at right away. Less explaining to do._

"Right," Morgan affirmed. "So the plan will be based around that." She looked to each of them in turn, stalling for time more than anything else. She sucked in a deep breath, mustering her courage. This time she had to be better.

This time she had to win.

"Alright, here is what we are going to do…"

. . . . .

In the end it did not take long for Morgan to hash out her plan. They would split into two groups, with Cynthia and Gerome drawing off as much of the enemy forces are they could while Nah was to carry herself and Laurent past any remaining enemy forces and to the rift itself.

Nah had taken some coaxing to agree too this, wanting instead to stay with Marc, but in the end had reluctantly agreed. Morgan felt for the manakete, she too understanding why she would be afraid to leave his side. Nor was she happy about it either, if it was up for her own desires they would be there right now. But no matter what they may have wished, the success of the mission took precedence.

She could only hope Marc could hang on.

Similarly Kjelle had her objected to her role of staying behind to protect Marc. This reaction was one Morgan had expected: knowing full well of the knight's general particular dislike for being forced to sit out a mission. Convincing her had been more difficult, but eventually Morgan's logic won out. Not only would their strategiem rely heavily on mobility and speed that Kjelle's encumbersome armor would prove hindering, but so too did her injuries make her a liability. Not to mention that they needed someone to stay behind and protect Marc should it come to that, which Morgan said was the perfect defensive role Kjelle was best suited for.

A flicker like shadow at the edge of vision snapped Morgan back to the present. There, on the horizon an oily smoke moved upon the wind. The shape shifted and for a moment it glowed with etherial fire. Feathered wings flapped and curved lances glinted before returning to ghostly ash.

At once Nah banked, spreading her wings wide to catch the wind and carry her higher into the sky. Gerone and Cynthia pulled their mounts into a shallow dive, picking up speed as they moved to intercept the enemy fliers. Just as Morgan had expected more than half the shadow split off, moving to engage the duo even as they whirled around away from the battle

For several second Nah held her position, then, with all but a handful of pegasus knights still before them, launched into a dive of her own. Like a storm the ghostly riders rolled towards them, shimmering in and out of reality.

Burning light filled the sky as spells and dragonfire spewed forth, forcing the phantoms to scatter and retreat back. Below a flight of arrows arced upwards in a confused jumble, the archers dazzled and disoriented by prismatic flames that showered down upon their heads.

Morgan blinked several times, motes of light and dark shadows clinging to her vision as her eyes readjusted. Bellow the invisible army was in disarray, if only for a moment, the ocean of violet mist and silken shadows churning as of tossed by a storm as they regrouped.

The next volley was far more organized. Arrows whipped past, falling like hail all around then. Several struck Nah on the chest and underbelly, bouncing off the hardened scales. A single bolt pierced the leathery membrane of one of her wings, a pained growl reverberating from the depths of Nah's gullet. She lurched suddenly, her side with the injured wing dipping as she struggled to steady her flight.

 _Just a little more. Come on, just a little more,_ Morgan chanted in silent prayer, hoping her friend could keep hold just a little longer.

The shimmering shadows of the enemy pegasus knights wheeled around and dove towards them. Phantom beast and rider alike seemed to eclipse the sun, forming a shifting mass of darkness and ghostly violet fire.

Closing her eyes, Morgan drew on her power, letting a sheet of magic spread over them. Behind her she felt Laurent do the same, weaving his own threads of power into the spellwork. A thousand needles pricked Morgan's skin, hairs stands on end.

A second passed.

Then another.

"Now!" Morgan screamed, unleashing the gathered power all at once. She felt the force of Laurent's will shove alongside her own. There was a flash of light and in a blink of an eye the scene had changed. They still flew towards the rift, only now from the opposite direction. The portal now lay between them and their pursuers.

The plan had worked: with luck the short range teleport would buy them the seconds they needed to reach the portal.

With a lurch Nah began her drive, aiming for the ground directly beneath the crackling vortex. "Hold on!" Nah shouted, her voice reverberating and echoing in the way of dragon speech. Wind whipped around, buffeting them as they approached ever closer. Fly too close to the portal and they would surely be thrown off course by the turmoil of the magical storm. However, they could not stray too far as their proximity provided a benefit their foes had clearly not foreseen: the high winds blew arrows launched from below off course, each volley missing it's mark by a wide margin.

With a roar Nah opened her jaws, breathing a sea of green fire that sparkled like diamonds upon the heads of the demon army. An instant later it was joined by spellfire leapt from from Morgan and Laurent's fingertips, spreading outward to burn away swaths of the invisible soldiers.

Nah barreled into the enemy line as she landed, battering aside the swords and spears raised against them. Morgan launched herself from the manakete's back, rolling to break her fall. Coming to her feet she launched a blast of wind that tossed aside two spearmen who rushed to meet her. Her head throbbed, fatigue already taking it toll.

The momentary confusion sowed into the enemy's ranks vanished quickly, the shifting waves of mirage flames reforming to rush from all sides.

Yet still the trio pushed forward, spells and dragon breath carving a path towards the rift. All around the sea of foes closed around them, until they were forced to wade forward against a tide of steel.

With a final surge they drove forward, breaking through the last few feet they needed to get in range. The portal's thrum was almost deafening now, each reverb seeming to shake their very bones.

"Laurent, now!" Morgan said, reaching out in preparation for casting the combined spell.

A burst of fire erupted in the center of the two, spiralling outwards in a vortex of searing heat. Both Morgan and Laurent were thrown from their feet, landing hard.

Morgan's entire body screamed at her to move and she staggered upright. Smoke curled from from her sindged coat. She whirled around searching for the attacker.

There! On a small crest just ahead of them sat a woman upon a phantom horse. Her mirage-like form flickered and shifted to reveal expensive garments of black, gold, and blue, a feathered headdress upon her head. In her hands was a red and black tome, her smoldering eyes burning with hate.

The twang of bowstrings filled the air, a volley of arrows and javelins arcing over the spellcaster, falling upon them before Morgan could react.

There was a sudden rush of red scales, followed by an avalanche of pinging _clinks_ mixed with wet _thunks_ and a single roar of pain. Nah had moved in the path of the projectiles, shielding Morgan and Laurent from the volley with her own body. While most of the arrows had been deflected, several had cracked scales in several places or found marks in the softer hide around her joints. With a thus Nah fell to the ground, her limbs giving out. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths and pained whimpers fells from her throat.

"Nah!" Morgan screamed. The sound of a second volley drowned out her voice.

A wall of wind sprung up between them and the raining bolts, scattering them off course. Spinning on her heels she saw Laurent channeling the spell, sweat beading his brow.

"Can only hold… temporarily… Morgan… the rift… go!" he wheezed, all the while pouring more into the wall as volley after volley crashed against it.

Wasting no time Morgan reached out with her mind, searching for the center of her portal. She gasped and stumbled a step, the overwhelming power burning like a sun against her thoughts. Against it she was little more than a rowboat in a vast, storm tossed sea. And beneath the waves of power she felt it. Cold and black, flickering with a torrent of anger and boundless rage. Every instinct screamed at her to withdraw, to hide from that shadowy consciousness. Only her will and the knowledge that it had yet to notice her held her resolve.

With a growl she formed a spike of mental power, forming it in a single point at the very center of the rift. Opening her eyes she let all though and focus fall away, letting every part of her being push with the spell.

"Thoron!"

Thunder magic was one of the hardest types to master, requiring a mastery of harnessing and shaping magical energies and an intense focus. Her father had a talent for it, so much so that he could cast the most powerful thunder spells out there with ease even while having difficulty of wind and fire attacks of the same level. Morgan lacked this talent: she simply could not focus as well as him or even her brother for that matter. That's why she favored fire magic, which relied more on raw power and force of will.

But in this instant, she'd needed more than raw power. And it had worked!

A single bolt of lightning burst from her hand as a blinding lance of light. It smashed into the heart of the rift, radiating out in a rippling wave. A deep, bass warble reverberated across the battlefield, drowning out all other sound.

The rift spasmed and spewed light in a sudden burst. Then with a final cracking boom it crashed in on itself in a violent flash of light and heat.

At once Morgan realized the danger. The original plan to have both her and Laurent take out the portal together was to control the collapse. Without his help she had been forced to throw far more power into the spell, weakening the weave of spells holding the portal open to the point of complete and instantaneous failure. And like the breaking of a dam, there was a flood.

All of that magic forced into a single point pushed back against itself. The earth rumbled then fell still. For an instant there was silence. Then the world exploded in a flashed of light, a wall of untamed energy rushed out from where the rift once stood.

Morgan had no time to conjure any sort of defense. She shut her eyes as the wave of light crashed into them.

She heart a soft pop in her ears. Then suddenly she was falling, landing on her face in the dirt. The ground beneath her rumbled and a explosive covered all other sound, only now seemed further off, as if heard from a distance.

_Are… are we dead?_

Opening her eyes Morgan found herself laying on hill far away from the battlefield. Laurent and Nah lay next to her, the injured Manakete having reverted to her humanoid form. It took but an instant to realize what must of have happened. In the moment after Morgan had launched her spell their foes had been distracted by the portal's collapse. Now freed up, Laurent had used the opportunity to teleport the three of them away with but moments to spare.

Turning her head Morgan's breath fell away in a gasp. The sky burned with a second sun, a ball of crimson and purple flames spreading outwards. It scoured the earth, devouring the phantoms soldiers scattered on the plains. The rumbling grew ever more violent and Morgan feared that it would soon spread to consume both the hilltop and all of Southtown. Then the wave seemed to thin, it's light dying as it dissipated into nothingness.

Of the portal nothing remained but a deep creator over half of mile wide, stone and dirt glowing red hot and turned to glass. Not a single thing moved in the wreckage, everyone of the invisible warriors wholly consumed.

Laurent stirred beside her, dragging himself over to Nah to check on her wounds. Two black specs moved in the sky, flying towards them. From their shape Morgan recognized them as Cynthia and Gerome. It was fortunate that their role had them lead their foes away from the field: that alone had likely saved them.

Morgan could only stare at the destruction left in the rift's wake. She felt cold. Numb.

Many parts of Southtown still burned, smoke rising high into the sky, blotting out the sun behind a gray haze.

They had won. The portal was gone, the army of invisible soldiers destroyed. Yet Morgan felt no pride in that now. No, the only thing she felt was a sense of foreboding. There had been so much destruction, so much death. Too many questions unanswered. Too much lay uncertain.

This did not feel like a victory.


	8. Strive To Do Better

Robin limped along through the handful of tents that made up the makeshift refugee camp four miles outside. He leaned heavily on Lucina as he walked, using her and the crutch wedded beneath his right arm to keep his weight off of his still injured leg. As long as he managed that it did not cause him any serious pain. That and he needed to give it more time to heal, even while circumstances meant he could not afford the luxury of bedrest.

After the messenger had arrived in Ylisse Chrom and Robin had altered the original plan the exalt and Morgan had the devised. For several hours the whole capital had seemed ablaze with activity, preparations being made for soldiers to depart a day earlier than expected. While most of their number would be sent on to what was left of Corgrove to secure the region, a single platoon was to go further south to meet up with the Shepherds. To bolster this smaller force they would be accompanied by Chrom, himself, Lucina, and Sumia, as well as all of the former Shepherds who lived within the city. This proved a sizeable number, including Lissa, Lon'qu, Frederick, Cherche, Cordelia, and Stahl. Messages had been sent out to town where Miriel and Kellam were living as well as to Ricken and Maribelle at the latter's estate outside the city. While they were too far away to come in time, it was likely that their aid would be needed in the coming days.

By the time they had reached Southtown they had found the battle already over two days since. Laurent and Cynthia had met them at the entrance to the camp and filled them in on the details. The rift had been destroyed but at the cost of multiple casualties. While to the relief of all none of them had died, both Kjelle and Nah had been severely wounded, while Marc had suffered even worse harm.

He and Lucina had insisted on seeing their son at once, to which they had been directed to the largest tent where they would find Marc and Morgan with him.

To be honest they would have probably ran if not for his own relative lack of mobility. Why did he have to go and hurt his leg anyways? Why couldn't it have been his arm? Least then he could get around without hobbling about like an old man.

A dark cloud rose in the distance, born of smoke and ash of the still smoldering ruin that was southtown. The sight of the monument cast a shadow of dread over the camp, a reminder of the horror that had befallen the land but days before.

At last they came upon the tent they were searching for. It was quiet, with only the faintest of glows seen beyond the entrance flap.

Robin unwrapped his arm from around his wife's shoulders, putting his full weight upon the crutch now. The slit in the fabric that led inside was far too small for both to enter side by side, so he would just have to manage alone for the moment.

Opening the flap of the tent, Robin slowly stepped inside, careful not to fumble his crutch on the thick canvas. Inside was dark, lit only by a single candle and a faint light leaking in through the stitching. On a simple cott lay Marc, his eyes closed, his forehead drawn tight in pain. Next to him were two chairs. One housed Nah, her diminutive form wrapped practically from head to toe in bandages, an arm in a sling across her chest. She gripped Marc's hand with her single still mobile one, caressing the back of it with her thumb. In the other chair sat Morgan, her shoulders slumped wearily, her distant, almost lifeless eyes staring at her brother. She barely stirred at her parent's entrance, a little flinch as she slowly lifted her head to look at them.

At once the two rushed forward to embrace their daughter. Lucina beat him there first, wrapping her in a hug that nearly pulled her out of her chair. Nonetheless Morgan staggered upright to better fit inside the almost crushing embrace just in time for Robin to stagger over and throw his arms around her as well.

"We were so worried. Thank the gods you are safe," Lucina said, sounding almost faint of breath.

Morgan said nothing, instead just burying her face into her mother's shoulder.

They held the hug for a moment longer before Robin loosened his grip so that he and Lucina could slip away. His eyes fell on Marc then, on his pale skin and the weak rise and fall of his chest.

Lucina reached out, her hand brushing over the forehead of their injured son. "How did this happen?" she asked, her voice barely above that of a whisper. She glanced back at Morgan. There was no blame or anger in that look, only the kind of worry only a parent would know.

Morgan looked away and remained silent for a long moment. Then her shoulders seemed to slump slightly and she took a slow breath. "How much do you know?"

"Some," Robin answered, elaborating, "Cynthia and Laurent gave us the quick rundown, but we would like to hear the whole story. If you are up for it, of course."

Morgan nodded. Taking a deep breath, she began her tale. She told of their initial success in the town, and of her desire to push onward and end the threat quickly. Of how this very decision had led them into a trap from which they had barely escaped. Of Marc's daring rescue and duel with an apparent commander of the phantom army, where in victory he was gravely wounded. And of how Morgan had nearly given up and only by a push from Cynthia had taken on the last desperate charge to destroy the portal.

Occasionally Nah chimed in to corroborate Morgan's story, but for the most part allowed her to do most of the talking. For much of the story Robin remained silent, asking a question here and there, but did his best not to interrupt. Lucina remained quiet through the whole ordeal, kneeling at Marc's side as she listened intently.

Only a handful of times did Morgan falter and seem hesitant to talk, her expression showing a look that could only be shame. However if she held anything back, she did so well enough that Robin could not tell. He did not think she was, at any rate, and it was doubtful that if she did Nah would go along with the deception without question.

Silence fell over the tent as Morgan finished. A minute ticked by. Then another. Robin frowned pensively, contemplating everything that was said. He looked at his daughter, focusing on her downturned eyes and wheary posture.

"Morgan, you know we aren't upset. You did as fine a job as you could-"

"I know," Morgan snapped, her tone suddenly harsh. Robin recoiled from the verbal slap, eyes widening in shock.

For a heartbeat no one moved. A flurry of emotions danced across Morgan's face one after another: anger, frustration, guilt, shame, self-loathing each lasting for but an instant. The air between them seemed almost to crackle with a sudden tension that put Robin on edge. Since when had Morgan acted like this? Not since last year. Not since the day she learned the truth of her world.

Nah seemed to sense it too. She glanced between the two of them and Marc. Then slowly she got up from her chair, wincing with the movement, and turned to go. Robin stopped her with an outstretched hand.

"You can stay if you'd like. I think Marc would rather you be here too." Truthfully a part of him was glad that she wished to leave: things were more likely than not going to turn to the discussion of more personal matters. But… that would not be fair to Marc nor to Nah. She had every right to stay.

Nah glanced back to the bed then shook her head.

"Thanks, but I don't want to get in the way. Too many people crowding around him, you know?" She smiled, or at least tried to. Her expression didn't quite make it all they way there, instead looking more worried and tired. "Besides, I should be resting too. Laurent will freak out if he finds out of his patients has been sneaking out of bed."

"Do you need help getting back there?" Lucina asked. She exchanged a glance with Robin, concerned for the young manakete.

"It's only the next tent over. I can manage," Nah assured her. With that she stepped forward, passing through the flap without stooping and was gone from sight.

Only when he was sure that she was long out of earshot did Rovin turn back to his daughter. She sat slumped in her seat, head buried in the collar or her coat. Her eyes glistening and wet as she stared blankly at her brother once more

"Morgan…" Robin started to say.

His daughter leapt to her feet, nearly knocking over her chair. It wobbled, lifting onto it's back legs before settling once more. She turned to face him, frustration returning to her features. "I known, Father. I know what you are going to say. That it wasn't my fault. But it was! I walked into that trap, I let my confidence get the better of me." She crossed her arms, dropping back into her seat with a aggravated ' _humph'._

"I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say I understood. And that we don't blame you for messing up, not when you did everything you could to make up for it," Robin countered. He reached out, putting a hand on his daughter's shoulder. She recoiled from the touch and pulled away. Robin sighed and shook his head wearily.

For a moment no one spoke. Then, in a voice so quiet that it took a second to recognize it at hers, Morgan spoke. "I know I shouldn't blame myself, but I can't help it. I almost got my little brother killed. How can I trust myself to lead after than."

"But did you not already do just that?" Lucina asked, speaking up. "You may have had some… 'encouragement ' from Cynthia, but you did take charge again in the end."

"I didn't have much of a choice, Mother. That's the thing. I had to take charge then… had to make sure we won…" She shook her head sadly. "I've had two days to look at what happened. To see Marc like this." She motioned with a hand at her brother. "And all I see is my mistake."

Robin frowned, at a loss for what to say. He understood what she was going through all too well. He closed his eyes, seeing again his first true failure: the failed rescue of Emmeryn all those years ago. He had make an error, failing to anticipate that Aversa was capable of summoning Risen, a lapse that had cost the lives of nearly every single one of Ylisse's few remaining pegasus knights. And worse… even if they did learn Emmeryn did survive years later, it didn't change the weight of that failure.

A tactician was never perfect: sooner or later you would make an inevitable error in judgement. All you could do is ensure that mistake did not come at the unnecessary cost of lives.

Morgan had gotten lucky. Her failure hadn't taken the lives of their friends. But she had let them get hurt, and so was blaming herself nonetheless.

Robin glanced over to Marc, still unconscious. As much as Morgan needed help, he did not wish to disturb Marc's rest while still so gravely injured.

He looked to Lucina, their eyes meeting. In that moment he recognized similar thoughts to his own held in her gaze. He nodded, an unspoken agreement passing between them. Someone needed to talk to Morgan, and given his own admitted penchant for blaming himself for things outside his control… well he who lives in glass houses and all that.

"Morgan," Lucina said softly, standing upright. She turned to her daughter. "Would you please come along so we may talk?"

"But…" Morgan started to argue, only for her shoulders to then slump as she relented. "Fine…" she whispered shuffling over to her mother.

Lucina put a hand on Morgan's shoulder, leading gently out of the tent. Just before they left Lucina looked back, giving Robin a reassuring nod before exiting into the sunlight.

Sighing wearily, Robin slipped into Morgan's now vacant chair. Cupping his hands in his lap he watched over his son, all the while pondering the events that had transpired.

_Morgan is a strong girl. She will get past this hurdle._

. . . . .

Lucina walked in silence, leading Morgan towards the edge of the camp. She needed to find somewhere quiet, where they could have some degree of privacy. Right now the last thing Morgan needed was the threat of others listening in and the embarrassment such eavesdropping might bring.

Soon enough she found it, a small hill with a single tree that would block them from view. Where the hill began to slope back down judded a large flat boulder, forming a natural seat. Coming to a stop, Lucina motioned with a hand, Morgan dropping herself down onto the rock shelf. Lucina sat next to her, folding her hands on her lap. Her daughter did not look up at her, the girl's eyes fixed squarely on the ground.

"Morgan, I'd like you to tell me exactly what is troubling you so. While I believe I know, or at least guess, much of it, I need to hear it from you," Lucina said turning to her daughter.

Morgan shook her head, remaining silent.

"Morgan, please. You know you don't have to be afraid to talk to me," Lucina said. She put a hand on her daughter's forearm, sliding over just a bit closer.

For a moment it seemed Morgan would not answer. But then, just as Lucina was about to open her mouth once more, Morgan breached the silence, her voice practically a whisper.

"I'm selfish."

"What do you mean? In what regard?" Lucina asked.

"Because I didn't just make a bad call. I let my arrogance get the better of me. I was tricked because I didn't even consider any victory so far had been an act. Because I couldn't consider it! I was so sure of myself, so sure that things were going right because of how great a tactician I was… to think anything less was to admit I could be wrong." Tears glistened in Morgan's eyes as she spoke. A drop rolled free, drawing a silver streak down her cheek.

"And the worst this is, a part of me is more upset that I didn't win those fights because of me than anything else. Because all I've ever wanted is to be just like father. And when I had the chance to prove I could, I failed."

"But did you not win in the end? By your own means?" Lucina asked, repeating the question she had asked before.

"Yes, but-" Morgan made a frustrated noise at the back of her throat. "Even if I did, I still am upset about it. Even now I still care more about my own hurt ego than how my friends got hurt. Who cares about that more than her friends or brother? A monster, that's who. That's why I am so scared. It will happen again, I know it will. And it will be all my fault!

Morgan began to sob, her shoulders shaking up and down.

At once Lucina wrapped her arms around her daughter, pulling the girl into her embrace. "It's okay, dear. It's okay. Everyone is alive, that did not happen. It's okay."

"But it's not okay, Mother, it's not," Morgan cried from within her arms, shaking her head back and forth again and again. "They still got hurt. Everyone was counting on me and they got hurt because of my own ego. I almost got us all killed. I'm scared… scared I'll end up doing it. I'll get them killed in my stupid, dumb, stupid, stupid arrogance."

"Morgan, you are not a monster. The very fact that you are afraid that you care more about your pride and how it may hurt others means that you _do_ care. It means you can do better next time. That you _will_ do better."

"N-No…" Morgan choked, squeezing her eyes shut as she tore her head from side to side once again. "When I saw Marc get stabbed I was so scared. I thought… I-I… I thought I'd gotten my brother killed. I saw what I'd done. That I'd lost him too," Morgan said between choking sobs, her shoulders bobbing.

Lucina held her daughter closer, rubbing and patting her back as she cried in her arms. She however said nothing, struck by the last thing Morgan had said. 'That I'd lost him _too_.' Not that she'd almost lost him, but that it had almost happened _again._ It was then that Lucina realized exactly what was wrong.

"This isn't just about what happened at Southtown, is it?" she asked, even if she knew fully well what the answer would be.

"It's not fair, why did he have to just leave me alone like that!" Morgan shouted, breaking free of Lucina's grip to stand upright. Anger mixed with pain on her face, smoldering tears burning rivers down her cheeks. "Abandon me after all the… all the time we were… l-like I didn't even matter!"

"Morgan, it's okay. I'm sure he-"

"No, it's not!" Morgan screamed, clutching her hands at her sides. "When Inigo and I started dating… I didn't take it seriously. But he did. He stopped flirting with other girls just like he said he would. I thought he cared about me."

She grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears rolling freely to no avail. "But he didn't care. If he did he would have realized that if he'd left that I'd… I'd…" She shook her head, her voice drowned with sobs. "How could he not even consider how hurt I'd be? I thought I mattered to him, Mother. How could he?!"

"Morgan…" Lucina whispered. Stepping forward, she pulled her daughter back into her embrace, holding her close once more. At once Morgan clung to Lucina as tightly as if her life depended on it, as if she was a drowning sailor in a storm tossed sea and Lucina a life preserver thrown out to her. Morgan sobbed in her arms, the girl's tears staining her cloak. All the while Lucina rocked her daughter gently, murmuring and cooing into her ear that it would be alright. That she, her mother, was here. That everything would be alright.

"I'm s-sorry. I-I'm so, so s-sorry," Morgan sobbed again and again.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, dear. You've done nothing wrong," Lucina told her. She brushed aside the tear-stained hair matted to Morgan's forehead, kissing her there. Slowly Morgan's shoulders began to still, her sobs quieting to a soft whimper.

"After he left I… tried to focus on being a tactician. I wanted to prove I was still needed and… it backfired, Mother. I let myself get so focused on proving myself that I messed up. I got Marc hurt," Morgan admitted, her voice broken by sniffles. "I was just so scared, scared that once I was born in this world, you'd longer want me."

Lucina stared at Morgan. The fear was one many of her friends had voiced before, or in many cases assumed it would be so outright. She herself had had similar worries about her role in this world. Were is not for Robin and her children… well, her original intentions to depart after Grima's defeat may still have been put into real consideration. But Morgan had seemed different in that regard: never once had she showed anything but excitement at the prospect of younger siblings that included a younger version of herself. How deep had her fears been buried? Perhaps it did not matter; she should have noticed they were there regardless. What a poor excuse for a mother she had been

"Shhhh, it is alright. You know that nothing could ever replace you, even yourself," Lucina murmured, resuming her gentle rocking. "You may not have been born in this time, but you are still as much my child as the little ones back home."

"Y-you promise you w-won't leave me, Mother?" Morgan sniffled again, looking up at her with big blue eyes. Tears glistened in their depths, threatening to break free once more.

"I promise you," Lucina assured her.

Morgan nodded, nuzzling closer against her mother. "Good," she whispered. At last she stilled in her mother's arms, her stifled sobs quieting. Still she clung to her, not daring to let go for even a moment.

Lucina ran a hand through her daughter's hair, brushing her bangs aside. "Morgan, I'd like to make another promise."

"What?" She looked up at her once more, a quizzical frown pursing her lips.

"That, if it is so that Inigo does not return soon with an apology in tow, I will search for the ends of the earth for him, even through the whole of the Outrealms if I must. And do you know what I will do when I find him?"

Morgan shook her head.

"I will make sure he understands full well what happens when someone hurts my little princess tactician," Lucina said, allowing her expression to harden at the last bit.

"I dunno, Mother, that seems a bit extreme. I like it." A small smile cracked through Morgan's lips, and she gave a sound that was half a laugh and half a sniffle. She brought a sleeve to her face, wiping away the crust of her drying tears. "Mother, I'm sorry for crying like that. It's just… with what just happened on top of Inigo leaving and my fears… it just… sort of all came out…"

"There is no shame in letting your feelings be known, dear. Keeping it all locked up inside, hidden behind a wall… I've learned all too well the mistake of believing that is strength," Lucina told her. "I believe you needed this: a chance to let it all out. Do you not feel better now having done so?"

"A bit," Morgan sniffed rubbing her eyes again. She sat up straighter and scooted back a bit so she could comfortably turn to sit with some distance between them while still perched in her mother's lap. "Still feel like I messed up."

"That's alright as well. Only you must strive to try again regardless. Do not think for a moment your father and I are without failure or mistakes. No one is. All you can do is resolve to do better."

Morgan nodded slowly, her expression pensive. "You know, I don't say this enough, Mother, but you are really smart. Smarter even than dad." Morgan smiled back at her.

Lucina felt her cheeks darken at the praise and she reflexively averted her gaze. "I do not believe I rightly can accept such high praise. I merely acted as a mother should to comfort her daughter, nothing more. Still… it pleases me to hear that you think so."

Lucina reached out wrapping her arms around the girl's shoulders and gave her another hug. Only three years ago such shows of motherly affection would have been awkward, born of uncertainty and hesitance about how she should act after suddenly being thrust into the role of parenthood. But now it came naturally to her. Despite only half a decade's difference in their ages, Morgan was her daughter.

'Are you ready to go back? I understand it if you require a few moments longer to collect yourself." Lucina offered.

"I'm ready… Morgan murmured. She stood, doing her best to right the rumpled mess that was her clothes. Stepping forward, Lucina tugged at the hem of her coat, helping her to straighten it.

"There, much better," Lucina said, taking a step back. "Let us go then. I am sure your father will grow worried should we tarry too long."

With that they started back into the camp.

. . . . .

Robin tapped a finger against the seat of his chair, rubbing his chin nervously. There was no mistaking the fact that what Morgan described of the rift matched disturbingly close to the portal Naga had used to send Lucina into the past, only this one had been on a far larger scale.

_This is all wrong… that sort of breach, one so big and lasting for a seeming indefinite period should not be possible. I don't think even Naga can puncture reality on that scale! How then…_

Robin frowned, a worrying thought occurring to him. Months before he and Lucina had investigated the ruins of time following reports of strange apparitions and other such anomalies. He has taken these rumor's very seriously: the ruins sat upon a location where the barriers that sat between worlds and the flow of time itself was at it's weakest. And the fears had been not unfounded. There was a crack, a minor breach where bit and pieces of other worlds had begun to leak in.

Something had weakened the wall that stood between realities, and he feared that they themselves may be the culprits. How many times had people traveled to and from with world in the span of a half a decade? Could that alone have been enough to weaken the fabric of reality enough where a rift of that size could be created?

And then Robin too remembered the visions he had seen when he'd attempts to close the minor breach. One stuck in his mind: Morgan, standing upon a hill overlooking a town burning below. Had that been the future? Had he seen Morgan as she was two days ago as she came to Southtown's defense?

At that moment Robin's ponderings were cut short as there was a soft rustle of covers. Even as he watched, Marc's entire demeanor seemed to suddenly shift. He stiffened, his whole body tensing as his eyelids began to flutter. A soft groan fell from his lips as slowly but surely he blinked his eyes open. He turned his head looking around, squinting until his gaze fell on Robin.

"Father?" He asked, his voice cracked and weak. He tried to hift his head, and arm moving underneath the covers. "Where am I? What-"

Robin put a hand on his son's arm, gently holding him still. "You got hurt pretty bad, try not to move too much. If it helps, we are in a camp a few miles from Southtown."

While Marc did lay back down the answer to his question did not at all seem to satisfy him. Worry flooded over his face as continued to ask. "What happened with the rift? And what about Morgan, is she…"

"She is fine, in no small part thanks to you," Robin answered. He smiled gently. "She is talking with your mother about what happened right now, though I am sure both of them will be happy to see you once they hear you are awake."

"Oh… good." He sighed in relief. Or at least tried to, only getting halfway through the breath before he winced, pain twisting his face.

"You alright ?" Robin asked, worry staining his voice. A lump formed in his throat, his heart aching at the sight of his son in such clear agony.

"Hurts," Marc whispered weakly, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

Reaching out, Robin took his son's hand giving it a squeeze. "I know it does. Just try not to move too much and take slow, easy breaths, okay?"

Marc's head bobbed in a tiny, barely perceptible nod. He did as he was told letting each breath stretch out over a longer period of time. His face relaxed somewhat, tightened muscles releasing as the pain dissipated, even if only by a little.

"I heard from Morgan what happened. That was really brave, risking yourself like that to save her," Robin said.

"I didn't… didn't want to let anyone else die," Marc said, his voice a bit stronger than it had been moments before."

"I know, and it took a lot of courage regardless of the reason. I'm so very proud of you, know that." He gave a small smile.

"I… that means a lot." Marc blinked and looked away. It often struck Robin how in many ways he was so different from Morgan: taking far more after himself and Lucina when it came to how he handled the attention of others. Like for instance, in how quickly he got embarrassed at even the smallest of praise.

"So… um…" Marc murmured a moment later breaching the brief silence then had fallen over them. "Is… is Nah alright?" His cheeks turned dark red. As much as praise embarrassed him, it could hold no candle to that which came whenever he so much as mentioned his love life before his family.

Despite himself, Robin could not help but allow a big, stupid grin to spread across his face, which served to cause Marc to blush all the harder. "She was here only just a bit ago, but went to get some rest. She was hurt in the fighting though not as badly as you. I am certain she will want too see you in short order as well."

"Oh… good, I-I…" Marc sunk back into the bed, as if attempting to disappear from view

The rippling of fabric behind him alerted him to the re-entrance of Morgan and Lucina into the tent. The two stopped dead in their tracks as their eyes fell on the now awake Marc. Then in unison they bolted forward, rushing quickly if still carefully, to the bedside.

Lucina looked her son's hand, while Morgan began to apologize again and again for what happened, how she was sorry he'd gotten hurt and how worried she'd been.

"I'm fine… I'm fine," Marc whispered again and again through the ordeal, only being heard when his sister had finally finished. "Don't apologize… I don't regret what happened."

"But you got hurt because I-"

"Because you're my sister and you needed my help," Marc interrupted, his voice stronger, his expression more firm than it had been a moment before. "I'm just happy you made it out alright." He winced, clutching at his side. "Also it really hurts, which… well, probably shouldn't have left my guard open. I do regret that." He gave a pained smile.

"Morgan told us about the fight," Lucina noted, her expression thoughtful. "Tell me, if I may ask, do you believe that swordsman was their leader? Given his ability and the fact that he was the only phantom who spoke, I thought it may be so."

"I… am not sure. He was a lot stronger and seemed more… alive almost. But I don't think he was their only leader. A field commander maybe," Marc answered, his face scrunching up as he thought hard on the question.

"Regardless of how high up the chain of command he is, you managed to kill him in the end. That alone is no small victory," Robin said, having been content up until then to let his family do most of the speaking.

Marc frowned deeply, his brow drawn together. "I… I'm not too sure I did kill him," he said. His gaze was distant as he spoke, as if he were speaking as much to himself as to everyone else.

All three of them turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?" Lucina asked, posing the question before Robin could himself.

"He didn't dissolve the same way as the others…" Marc explained softly shaking his head. "The others evaporated into smoke when they died. He turned to to smoke, but it was darker… thicker.. and it flowed away, not scattered in the wind."

Robin turned to look to Morgan for confirmation, finding her expression thoughtful. "He's right. I noticed that too, just didn't really think much of it until now," she said in response to his questioning look.

Robin frowned. He looked to Lucina, and upon the meeting of their eyes he saw the same uncertainty he now felt. A part of him wanted desperately to know more, to press Marc for details. But…

If he were to list the many things Marc needed right now, and interrogation would come at the very bottom.

Forcing a smile to his lips, Robin put his hand on his son's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We can worry about those details once you are well rested, okay?"

Slowly Marc nodded. He closed his eyes and shifted slightly to get comfortable. "I think I'll rest for a bit… just for a bit…"

"I think that is for the best. I believe Morgan should get some rest too. As should you," Lucina said, turning to Robin. She shot him a look at said 'we'll worry about what happened later'

"I know, I know," Robin sighed. "You'll stay here with Marc, won't you?"

Lucina nodded. "Of course. Rest well."

Standing, Robin bent over Marc, giving him a kiss on the forehead before turning to go. Morgan went with him, even taking hold of his hand to help as deputy crutch as she led them back to her own tent. His and Lucina's own tent had yet to be pitched, and he was too tired now so he would just settle for a chair.

Yet even as his daughter drifted off the sleep in the bedroll that lay at his feet, Robin found that sleep did not come easy to him. Shadowy visions of demon soldiers and monstrous undead flickered in and out of his mind.

_Who is behind all of this? And why now?_ he wondered.

And with that thought he slipped into an uneasy sleep, plagued with shadows and uncertainty.

* * *

**Character Spotlight:** Robin

**Boon/Bane:** +Speed/-Luck

**Skills:** Ignis, Luna, Vantage, Pavice, Aegis

**Personal Skill:** Invisible Ties - When user is the support unit, if the lead unit has a C Support or higher, the lead unit receives +5 to Hit Rate, Avoid, and Critical Evade, as well as shield gauge gain +1

**Weapons:** Thoron, Elwind, Arcfire, Mjolnir, Longsword (Alm's Blade)

**Combat Description:** Always looking to further his own combat abilities both with magic and traditional martial prowess so that he can best protect his friends, Robin has spent a great deal of time training with the other Shepherds to learn their skills and technique. As a result he has picked up a wide variety of abilities beyond those known by a typical tactician.

While Robin favors magic, he is still a proficient swordsman: often using the two in unison to best defeat his foes. Recently, however, he as begun to fall back on his skills as a swordsman: discovering a diminished spellcasting ability since his return due to the absence of the Heart of Grima, which previously had granted him unnaturally heightened spellcasting capabilities.


	9. Voice of Guidance

_Robin drifted in a sea of black. Whispers and flickering shadows flitted around him, dancing just beyond the edge of perception._

_He tried to move but found he could not. He struggled again, but still his body refused to obey his commands._

_Suddenly the shapes and hisses of breath began to move faster, growing louder and brighter as they rushed here and there. Flashes of sensation surged forth in a wave, overwhelming him in alien visions that tore through his mind one after another in rapid success._

_Armies in ancient armor clashed on a bloody field… Snow falling over an ocean of white, fur clad travelers trudging onward... Morgan standing on a cliff, overlooking a burning town… The sea, waves rolling as a storm brewed in the distance... Lucina charging into a portal, her friends trailing after her as fighting raged behind..._

_Without warning Robin felt his body lurch, the hand of gravity seizing him. He was falling, sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss. All the while the visions ripped through him even faster, overlapping with one another in a torrent of memories that were not his own._

_...Islands of land afloat on a sea of sky and mist…. A figure shrouded in darkness, his piercing red eyes staring out like flames, slitted like a cat's… Grima's black wings sweeping over a blighted land…. The ruins of time detonating in a blinding light..._

_At last Robin's body obeyed his desperate commands. He kicked and clawed, trying to swim up and out. The light above seemed so far away. His lungs burned and he knew if he tried to take a breath he would drown. Still on the visions came, throwing the world deeper into an endless torrent of conflicting sights and sounds._

_...Two armies met in a flurry of clashing weapons as the sun sank over the horizon… Space and time ripping asunder, cracks splitting reality itself, revealing an all consuming void that threatened to obliterate all of creation… A golden blade, shrouded in crimson shadow cutting through empty space. Falchion rushed up to meet it, the clash sending the blood blade spinning through the darkness before erupting into fire that washed over all else…. A pendent glowing with gentle, aqua light falling into a pool of water, sending gentle ripples outward as it sunk beneath the surface..._

_Like a door being slammed shut the visions abruptly ceased. Everything went black. There was nothing. No light. No sound. Nothing._

_Then he saw it. A white, ghostly mask glinting in the darkness, crimson eyes staring from within black sockets. It was looking at him. He didn't know how, but somehow he knew it was looking at him. It could see him, it knew who he was and where he was. He struggled, only to again find himself frozen in place. He could feel it examining him, cold ripping through him as it peered into the very depths of his soul. He tried to scream, only for frozen water to rush into his open mouth and fill his lungs. He heard laughter, the sound unlike the voice of any person and it-_

Robin gasped, his eyes snapping open. He trashed, clawing desperately against the weight draped over his body. Then he realized he was staring up at the roof of his tent, the weight little more than that of blankets draped over him.

Slowly he sat upright, his heart still hammering with such intensity a part of him almost feared it would burst free. He tried to take a deep breath, only for it waver and flutter with the rapid rhythm beating in his chest.

Robin clutched his head, squeezing his eyes shut. The visions in his dream were not new. They were the same ones he had seen at the ruins of time months before. But why see them again now? And why had they felt so real? So much more real than any dream he'd had before? Well, besides the one where he killed Chrom at the Dragon Table, but in his defense that one totally was real. Just, you know, those were memories from his future self. Completely different.

He took another long, drawn out breath, this time more successfully. Looking around he saw that light streamed in through the tent opening. It was morning, though how early or late into it he could not say. The bedroll next to him lay empty: Lucina must have already gotten up some time ago.

Throwing off his covers, Robin stood slowly, running a hand over his face. Try as he might he could not get the visions out of his mind. They clung to his thoughts like a parasite, poisoning them with doubt and fear he could not fully place. Several of the visions were clearly the past: showing either ancient events or more recent ones he was familiar with. The moment Lucina went back in time, Grima flying over the doomed future, Morgan before the recent fighting at southtown: these did not trouble him.

No, it was the visions he did not recognize: those of potential futures that set him on edge.

_When did my life get so complicated?_ A voice in the back of Robin's head wondered. Immediately a second, more sarcastic voice shot back: _around the same time you fell in love with a time traveler. Face it, you are doomed to a life of abnormally._

The sliding of fabric caught Robin's attention then, pulling him away from his internal snark-off. Thank the gods for it too, if he kept _that_ up any longer people might actually think he was crazy.

Lucina poked her head into the tent, her eyes falling on Robin at once. "Good, you are already awake. Father wants to meet with you. A messenger road into camp."

"Another attack?" Robin asked, even though he already suspected the answer.

Lucina nodded grimly.

"Go on ahead, I'll be there as soon as I get dressed," Robin told her.

Dipping her head once again, Lucina withdrew from the tent.

It has been twenty days since the attack on Southtown and in that time the Shepherds, both young and the older members who could be gathered, had been traversing the kingdom to one end and back. Their intention to provide relief to the ruined town had been cut short when word came in of similar invasions being launched across the kingdom, and even beyond in both Plegia and Ragna Ferox. So far they had been close enough to rush to the aid of two separate towns, while others remained too far to provide any such immediate aid.

In both engagements little had been learned of their enemy. All that was clear is that whoever was behind the attacks had changed tactics as a result of the battle when Morgan led the Shepherds. Rather than fight a direct engagement, the phantom warriors had sought only to delay while the rest retreated back through the portals, shutting the rifts behind them before the Shepherds could get in close. It was a strategy aimed at causing as much mayhem as possible before any resistance could be mustered.

And the worst part was, there was little Robin could do to counter it. With the enemy's ability to appear anywhere without warning they could destroy an entire town or village before any help would be even notified, let alone arrive in time to provide aid. It was a battle of attrition they could not hope to win in the longer term, not as long as they could not be everywhere at once.

_We need to think of something, and soon._

Pulling on a relatively clean tunic and trousers, Robin slipped on his boots. He grimaced as he stood, the muscles in his left leg tightening at the movement. While his injury had healed to the point where he could walk and even run without assistance, his leg felt stiff at times, particularly when standing or sitting down.

He shook his leg and ankle a few times, trying to loosen it up before grabbing his coat and setting out into the camp.

It did not take long to find the command tent, which stood at the center of the camp. Wasn't hard to miss, with Frederick insisting on standing guard outside. Robin lifted a hand in a lazy wave, nodding to the knight as he pulled the flap open and stepped inside.

The tent was lit by several candles placed on a old scratched and weathered table that had been chosen for the ease at which it could be transported. Simple chairs had been laid out around it. Chrom and Lucina were already there, both opting to stand around the table.

"Where's Morgan?" Robin asked, quickly fishing out some documents and crumpled notes from the pockets of his coat. He spread them on the table before slipping into his chair.

"Scouting mission, left before the messenger arrived. No time to wait now," Chrom said, speaking at a more rapid pace than Robin was inclined to expect from his friend.

"Where this time?" he asked, referring to the latest attack.

"Plegia, at a small town right at the border. Little over a day's march from here," Chrom said, his tone grave.

"Gods, too far away for us to do much good," Robin muttered. He peered over a map. "Looks like the nearest garrison is closer than we are, though if I recall Ylisse holds it now, with just a skeleton crew. Any survivors will go there. If we can spare any troops to reinforce…"

Chrom nodded "I will send word back to Ylisstol, more troops will have been mobilized by the time the message gets there." He frowned then added, "We should probably head back there soon, ourselves. Might hasten things a bit."

"Even if we can mobilize the whole nation, we can't protect everywhere at once," Robin said, frowning. "It will help, yes, but…"

"What of evacuating outlying settlements? Reduce the number of locations we must protect?" Lucina offered. She tapped a single finger against the table, her expression distant as if lost in thoughts.

Robin mulled over the suggestion. "Short term that might work. But long term… well, turning the war into multiple sieges will only delay our defeat, not stop it." He picked up a pen from the table, rolling it in his fingers. After a long moment of silence he sighed and set it aside. "This is bad, Chrom. These attacks are becoming more frequent and are hitting the rest of the continent. With the unanswered question of Valm we have no idea how widespread this is."

Pressing his hands against the table, Robin stood pacing the length of the tent. "I hate to admit it, but I am running out of ideas. I just feel… helpless. Knowing the longer we do nothing the more people die, but not being able to _do_ anything either."

Chrom nodded solemnly. "I know. We are trying, Robin," he said gently.

"I know, just…" He slumped back in his chair, wearily. "I'm tired. I thought we were done. Done with war, done fighting. That we finally got the peace we fought so hard for." Even as he spoke those words a flicker of anger sprouted from within the haze of exhaustion. A burning, almost righteous anger against this new, unknown foe. They had dared to invade his world, now after everything. "We need to find out who is doing this. And why. If we can… if we can find out where this army is coming from…"

Robin shook his head slowly, his shoulders slumping. "The only problem is as far as I can see, it is going to be damn near impossible to get those answers."

"Don't count us out just yet, Robin. I know you'll figure this out, you always do," Chrom assured him, circling the table to put a firm hand on his shoulder.

Robin did not respond, not even looking up at his friend. After a moment Chrom let his hand slip away. "Look, I'm barely a strategist, and ' _barely_ ' is a stretch, but I think you are right that we need to go on the offensive. As much as I hate turning a blind eye to all this…" He sighed deeply. "We need answers if we are to help anyone and that means making it our priority."

"Perhaps Naga could be of assistance? Would she not be able to tell us from what world or time this enemy originates?" Lucina asked, speaking up.

Robin considered this for a moment. "She might also be able to send us to wherever the portals lead, come to think of it." He frowned, scratching his chin. "Problem is when you are and Marc went to see her… what was it? Eight? Nine months ago? ... uh, regardless, didn't she return to her slumber? She might not be able to help us on this one." He looked to Lucina as he finished.

"Indeed, I am afraid it is so," Lucina confirmed.

"Couldn't we just attempt the Awakening again?" Chrom suggested

"We could, but even then there is no guarantee she will be able to do much. There is a reason she goes into such long periods of sleep: as powerful as Naga is, her power is not unlimited. She has to spend years or even decades recovering after using large portions of her strength… as she did when she sent us to Morgan and Marc's world last year," Robin answered, shaking his head. He sighed wearily. "Even so, getting answers from her may still be worth the trip."

"So we make for Mount Prism then?" Chrom asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, that would probably be our best move. We should head there as soon as…" Robin stopped, something occurring to him. He smiled, fully sitting upright in his chair. "Actually, there is something I'd like to try that may save us a trip," he explained. Standing he gathered up his things, shoving them into the pockets of his coat. "Make preparations to depart regardless, as even if we don't go to Mount Prism we should return to Ylisstol and regroup. Lucina, I'm going to need your help with this."

"What do you mean? What is your idea?" Chrom called out incredulously even as Robin stepped through the tent flap.

"I will explain later!" Robin shouted back. He set off into camp at a brisk pace, a second later Lucina hurried along side to catch up with him.

"Robin, what is this about?" she asked him.

"One second, just got too find somewhere… that looks good," Robin said, eyes falling on a section of the camp, away from the tents. Stepping into the space he looked around, before turning back to his wife.

"So, right, time to explain. When considering our options the thought occurred to me how great it would be if we could contact Naga without going to Mount Prism ourselves. But even if we could do that she could be asleep, hibernating, whatever it is." He motioned vaguely with his hands. "Then I realized there _was_ a way, even if she was resting, to converse with her indirectly: through Tiki. She is Naga's voice, and can act as a conduit for Naga's wisdom even while she is in her periods of sleep."

"But is Tiki not an ocean and a continent away? It would take months for us to reach her," Lucina argued, gazing at him with an incredulous eye.

"Ah, but that is where the first thought comes in. There is a way for me to speak with her across that distance. It's a type of magic called astral projection, where the caster can send their consciousness leagues or even a world away."

"Why have I not heard of this spell before?" Lucina asked.

"Well for one thing it is very difficult to do. Matter of fact I'm pretty sure it's only just in reach of my abilities," he explained. "The other problem is that to work one must have a link to the target in some way. Being blood relations is generally the ideal situation. My fathe- Validar used it on me twice that I can remember, three years ago. Tried to tempt me to joining his side." he shook his head, scattering the unpleasant memories. "Regardless, while not as easy, having an object with a close relation to the target can also be used."

Lucina's eyes widened in understanding. "That is why you need my help. Because of Falchion, and my bloodline."

"Yes. Falchion was created by Naga from one of her own fangs, and Tiki is Naga's daughter," Robin said, nodding his head in affirmation. "And your bloodline is blessed by Naga herself, connecting you to her and so to her voice as well."

Lucina did not reply at once, a sudden frown pursing her lips. "I must ask, even with these drawbacks, why have you not attempted this spell in the past? It seems as though it would have proven quite useful."

"That is due to the other inherent problem. These sort of spells are very hard to pull off, while being relatively easy to counter. Any sort of magical wards, defenses against spells, would keep the user out," Robin explained. He grimaced, adding. "Not to mention it leaves the user susceptible to certain types of curses or other dark magic. If detected, a powerful sorcerer could trap the user's consciousness before they could return to their bodies. Luckily for me I doubt there will be any dark mages strong enough hanging around at the tree."

Lucina seemed to consider this for a moment. "If that is the case, could the Mila Tree not have these type of magical defenses?"

Robin nodded, letting out a weary sigh. "That is the biggest concern. I can only hope the tree relies on direct intervention from Tiki or even Naga herself against such magical intrusions. In that case they may just allow my conscious to project itself there."

Lucina was silent for a moment. Worry radiated from her that Robin could almost feel as were it a physical force. Then, slowly, she dipped her head in a hesitant nod. "Alright. What do you need me to do?

"Well, first I am going to need to get ready. Probably best if I sit down for this, not sure how long I will be gone and I don't want to risk hurting myself," he said. Lowering himself onto the grass, Robin rested on his knees and placed his hands on his lap.

"Now, I want you to kneel in front of me and rest Falchion on your palms. Once I finish the spell you should be free to move," he instructed.

"You know a lot about this already," Lucina noted, doing just as he told. She unsheathed Falchion, resting the blade on her lap.

"I read up on the theory of how this works awhile back. Just havn't tried it yet," Robin explain. He reached out, placing his hands onto the flat of Falchion's blade, directly on top of where Lucina's hands lay underneath. "Right then, here it goes."

Taking a deep breath Robin closed his eyes reaching inside himself towards the wellspring of power. As easily as were he merely flexing a muscle he drew it forth letting it flow through him. He eyelids fluttered and he looked out through half aware eyes, focusing on Falchion and the woman who held it. He poured his will upon what he saw, letting it stick in his mind. At the same time he thought of Tiki: tried to picture her in his mind. To draw a connection between her and what was before him. It was not enough to merely think the connection was there, but he had to _believe_ it was so.

He felt the power gathering, stretching outward and away. He reached out for it with his mind. There was a small burst of power, a barely perceptible pop that he felt rather than heard. A ripple of light shot down Falchion's blade, suffusing it with a green glow. At that instant Robin felt a sharp tug, like falling from a great high only to be yanked to a stop as a safety rope went taut.

All at once the world vanished in a sudden rush of movement. He was whipping through the sky, his consciousness catapulted far away from his physical form. He tried to squeeze his eyes shut, but found he could not. Amongst the surge of stimuli overwhelming his senses he barely caught the sarcastic ' _No eyes to close, Robin. What did you think would happen?'_

Then just as it seemed as though it would never end, he stopped. He did not slow down or even feel a jolt: just one moment he was moving and the next instant he was not.

Looking around, Robin found himself standing at the shrine that sat in the center of the Mila tree. Well, perhaps 'standing' was an inaccurate description. While his feet did touch the ground, his did not feel like anything was under him. He did not feel anything against his skin come to think of it. Raising his hands before his face, Robin found himself staring through them as if they were made of smoke. He waved his hands, not even feeling the movement of air around them.

_Okay, this is weird._

Turning his head, Robin surveyed his surroundings. It was very early in the morning, the sun only just risen from the horizon. Birds chirped in the branches of the great tree and leaves rustled in the wind.

Continue to drag his gaze around, Robin's eyes at last fell on Tiki. The manakete looked the same as she always had since they'd met: clad in a pink dress that flowed to her ankles and a golden, jeweled crown resting amongst her green hair. She was staring off into the distance, at the rising sun.

For several moments Tiki stood motionless, seeming not to have noticed him. Then as last she shifted, turning slowly to look at him. The was a momentary pause, recognition flickering in her eyes. Then a smile, so small Robin nearly missed it, tugged at her lips. "Robin, it is good to see you again. Though I fear I must take it that you did not attempt such a difficult spell just to say hi to a friend."

Robin opened his mouth, then promptly shut it again. He'd been so prepared to explain how he was contacting her, not to mention the whole matter of it coming without warning… well, let's just say he had expected Tiki to be whole lot more surprised. "Wuh?" Robin managed, his well thought out plan for how the conversation would go crashing around him. _Ah yes, 'wuh'. Wit, thy name is Robin._

A soft laugh fell from Tiki's lips, it's sound like the singing or birds or the bubbling of a stream. "Naga's position grants her some small degree of foresight, and I am her voice. It could be said that your presence was not unexpected," she explained.

"Oh, right," Robin said, scratching the back of his ethereal head. Wait, how was he able to do that when he couldn't even close his eyes? How did that make sense?

_Not the time or the place, Robin,_ he told himself, shoving the thought aside. "So um…" he trailed off, trying to re-orientate himself to the unexpected road the conversation had taken. "How much do you know about what's going on?"

Tiki's smile faded. "All too much. Do not let the peace here fool you, the continent has been thrown into turmoil by these invaders from another world. Even now the kingdoms once under Valmese control battle against a foe that can appear and vanish as easily as the tides."

Robin grimaced. He had feared this: the attacks were not just isolated to the ylissean continent. The whole of the world itself seemed to be under siege.

"Another world… so this is an invasion from an Outrealm parallel to our own. But… I thought they could only be accessed normally through the Outrealm gate?" Robin asked, looking to Tiki. "Even if a rift could be created, so many as this should be beyond anything I know of. Even Naga. Is it because…" he trailed off, letting the unspoken question hang.

Tiki nodded solemnly "I am afraid you suspect correctly. There is a reason the act of breaching the flow of time is a great taboo. Each time it is done, the barriers that separate this reality from others are weakened, making it easier for outside forces to break their way through. In all of history for this world, time travel has only ever been used in in your lifetime, and for good reason. It was always a last resort, saved only for the most dire of circumstances," she explained.

"So it is our fault then. Lucina coming here and all of us going to Morgan's world, I mean," Robin said. It felt as though his heart had fallen from his chest, leaving a frozen void in it's wake. Huh, apparently he could still feel that sort of thing while in his current state.

Tiki shook her head. "You are not to blame, Robin. Nor anyone else. Those acts were necessary, regardless of the consequences." Tiki assured him, her tone gentle. "All that is to blame is fate for conjuring a foe who has taken advantage of what had been done, nothing more…"

She trailed off, looking off into the distance. "I am afraid that this was perhaps not an unforeseen eventuality. Three months ago a traveler from another world arrived here seeking aid to defeat the enemy we now face," she explained keeping her eyes on the rolling plains. Sunlight glittered in the distance, clouds casting long, drawn out shadows that lazily drifted over the landscape like great whales through the ocean depths. Tiki sighed, silent for so long that Robin started to believe she was done before at last she broke the silence once more. "Naga was against open aid, fearful of the attention it might bring to this world. It's protection is her priority. The traveler… he agreed with this fear, so that when he departed the help he did receive was one we hoped would not in turn make us a target. But it would seem our precautions were all for naught."

"Wait, do you mean you know who this enemy is?" Robin asked startled by this news. "Who or what are they? What world are they from?"

Tiki looked back at him, some emotion flickering in her gaze he could not readily identify. It seemed like something akin to frustration, only more weary and regretful. Her mouth tightened for a moment, looking almost as one biting their tongue before they could blurt out some terrible secret, and she shook her head. "I can't answer those questions, Robin."

"What? Why?" He asked incredulously. He was so close to getting to the bottom of this and now she wouldn't tell him!?

"I want to, but…" Tiki's jaw tightened again. "It is not by choice. It is… outside of our control."

That stopped Robin dead in his tracks. Something about the futility in her voice hit home. Something was stopping her, that much was plain. But how… wouldn't Naga be able to...

"Wait, are you saying something is preventing you from telling me? Something Naga can't even stop?" Robin asked, eyes widening.

Tiki was silent for a long moment. Then when she spoke, it was not a reply, but a question. "Robin, what would occur when two objects of near equal size and weight were to collide at high speeds?"

Robin opened his mouth to ask what she was talking about, only to stop as what she was getting at dawned on him. _She is trying to tell me Naga_ _ **could**_ _interfere to stop whatever is preventing Tiki from answering, but that would mean direct conflict with it. And if that thing's power is near or equal to Naga's…_ Well, suffice to say it would be bad. Really really bad. End of the world type of bad. If time and space had been ruptured as badly as Tiki said, then that kind of power being thrown around between words could very well shatter this reality.

_It must be the same thing invading our world. Somehow it can block Tiki from talking about it._

"Then is there anything you or Naga can do?" Robin asked, imploring with her now. "If the barriers between worlds weaken each time this things creates another rift, then we don't have much time. Can Naga send the Shepherds to the world these attacks are coming from? Take the fight to them?"

Tiki closed her eyes at this question. For a moment she seemed almost to glow with her own light, and to almost float even though her feet still touched the ground. No more than a handful of seconds passed before she opened her eyes again, her gaze almost sad.

"No, not to the extent you wish. Naga's ability to breach the bounds of time and space has been greatly exhausted from the events where you aided your children's world. Even with the fragility of the walls at this point…her limit is no more than a few and then the risk of being unable to retrieve them is all too real…"

"So it's an option, but no where near an ideal one," Robin concluded, frowning. Two, three, maybe four of them… would that be enough? They had no idea what this world was like. Perhaps if they were certain there were allies to find there, maybe a few of them could make a difference. Tiki did say this started when someone came from that world looking for help. But… it was equally likely the enemy had complete dominion over that world, at least to the point where little resistance remained. Either scenario made sense given what little he knew, which made knowing which was right all the more difficult.

Robin frowned. It was far too great a risk. One that he wouldn't think to ask of anyone, not unless there was no other choice. But…

"Do we have any other option? Our best chance is to get a sizable force there, but I can't see how.'

Once again Tiki was silent for a moment. "You are the tactician, think how the information I have provided you can inform your plans? Does it tell anything of this enemy?"

Robin's frown deepened even further, the tactician forcing himself to review everything Tiki had said. Try as he might, nothing stood out to him as giving anything to really go on. Just that with each rift created, the barriers between worlds grew more unstable. And with them growing more frequent they-

Robin stopped suddenly, eyes widening. _Could it really be that simple? Had it been staring him in the face this entire time?_ "Gods, these attacks haven't just been to whittle down our defenses. They have also been aimed to weaken our reality bit by bit, making it easier to come through," Robin said, a sudden dread flowing over him that prickled his skin and turned his chest to ice. "It's planning to come through itself. And not just continue launching small attacks, but a full on invasion."

A being of that power: somewhere on the level of Naga… it would need a rift of immense size. One where not only it could itself enter through, but could send forces over in unprecedented number.

And Robin thought he knew exactly where that would be. The one place where time and space was most distorted, the walls the weakest. The Ruins of Time. A memory out of the visions he'd seen flashed through his mind: the ruins detonating in a blinding flash of light that consumed everything in it's wake. Dammit all, he'd literally seen it and yet he'd failed to put the pieces together until now.

However, amongst the grip of fear flickered a growing hope. An opportunity existed, one they could exploit.

"Even with a rift that large, the creator would need time to stabilize it. He'd have too, or his own power would tear it apart when it tried to enter. That's our window," Robin said, thinking aloud. "Even though he is sure to be sending forces through the rift to protect it, if we can just get to it…" Robin trailed, his mental projection pacing. Intangible astral form or not, it seemed old habits remained even when one's body lay leagues and a ocean away. "...Yes, if we can get enough of us to the portal before it's creator can come through, we might be able to piggyback into his world. Take the fighting to his world for a change."

Robin stopped pacing and turned to Tiki. "Even if not, we may be able to disrupt the attack, delay his invasion. That alone makes it worth our while."

Tiki inclined her head. "Then it appears to me that you have found what you seek. Is there anything else I may be of service of before you-"

A rattling boom shook the world. There was a flash of light, the earth itself shaking violently. The tree swayed, Tiki staggering a step, as would have Robin were he there in physical form.

Robin whirled around. There, in the plains around the Mila Tree a storm of crackling thunder and rippling mist swirled, gathering strength. The earth beneath groaned and split, magma spewing forth in fountains of searing heat and fiery light. Even as he watched a void seemed to open up light a great maw at the very heart of the vortex. A deep, reverberating thrum radiated out, shaking the very foundations of the world itself.

_Here? Now!?_ Robin's eyes went wide. Has his presence here been noticed? Had going to Tiki for help made the Mila Tree a target? Had their plans already been discovered?

"Robin! Quickly, you must make haste. Return to your body and prepare, while time yet remains," Tiki urged, whirling to face him.

"What about you? I can't just leave you here to fend for yourself!"

"There is little you can do to aid me in your current state. And do not fear, I am not defenseless here. This place is blessed by Naga, and her power will not allow it to be defiled by these invaders," Tiki assured him.

There was another boom, the tree swaying once again. Through the portal a flickering shadow seemed to flow, forming a sea invisible to the naked eye. Time was indeed running short.

Robin opened his mouth to argue, only to be stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed a sudden change in Tiki's appearance. She was glowing. Actually glowing, surrounded in a halo of white light. Her eyes fell on Robin and he saw they had gone completely white.

"Here me, time is short and you must listen," Tiki told him, her voice seeming to echo and reverberate with each word. Somehow it was no longer Tiki speaking to him, but something more.

_Naga._

"Just because I cannot aid directly does not mean my power is idle. A black sea grows at the edge of my sight, but the fire of hope yet remains," she continued, her white orbs peering deep into Robin's very heart. "When the time comes, remember your bonds and trust in their strength. When hope appears lost, remember the past. Awaken the end and let two flames become one, so that the son can bring about the beginning once more."

"What do you mean? 'Awaken the end'? I don't understand," Robin said, trying his best to make out the vague statements.

"It will become plain in time. Now go, and carry with you my blessing." With Tiki's body, Naga reached out towards Robin. The tactician gasped as she wrapped her hands around his, clasping them as though they were physical. He felt something smooth and round placed into his palm and she closed his fingers around them. "You will know what to do."

Without warning the radiance from Tiki's body flashed brighter than the sun, engulfing Robin before he had a chance to say anything more. He felt a tug and then a snap, like an invisible tether being yanked back, severing the harness that ground him too reality. He felt a rush like falling from a great height seconds before he crashed down.

. . . . .

Robin's eyes snapped open. He gasped, his body lurching as he filled his lungs. His heart raced, it's beats hammering in his ears and everything swayed. He tried to stand only to collapse to one side. Before he could hit the ground hands suddenly seized him to support his weight.

"Easy, easy, I am here, my love," the gentle, concerned voice of Lucina said in his ear. She helped him back down to onto his knees, wisely deciding he would need a moment before standing.

"Sorry. Just a bit… disoriented," Robin breathed, feeling strangely out of breath from the experience.

"Did it work?" Lucina asked, her brow furrowed with worry.

"Yeah. Talked to Tiki.. got a plan now," Robin croaked, his throat painfully dry. He swallowed, soothing the burning sensation a bit. "Better to explain to everyone else. We should hurry." Pressing a hand to the ground to support himself, Robin got his feet under him, Lucina gripping his arm as she helped him upright. Robin staggered a step, but this time did not fall.

"Why the haste, did something happen?" Lucina gave him a questioning look. It was only under that gaze that Robin realized just how tense he felt, like his blood had been turned to ice and every nerve set to burst.

"Another portal, this one at the Mila Tree. Tiki said the place was defended, but…" Robin trailed off, noticing for the first time that it still felt like he was holding the object Naga had given him. But... that was impossible, he hadn't actually been there… how? He stared at the closed fist, then with a slow breath he uncurled his fingers. His eyes went wide as he saw what was inside.

In the center of the palm of his hand sat an orb about two inches in diameter. It was smooth, warm to the touch, with a lustrous sheen like that of a perl, only partially translucent. When he peered inside it looked as though he was staring into a deep sea of stars, twinkling and glittering in an infinite expanse.

A sudden wave of vertigo washed over Robin. He swayed on his feet clutching at his head with his free hand. When Naga had placed the orb in the 'hands' of his projected consciousness she must have been using the magical tether to his physical body to summon it into his possession. Or else she had somehow created a purely ethereal object that would become physical when he'd returned to his body. Either way the mechanics of what she had done were far beyond anything he'd even attempt.

Then again, when dealing with a being with godlike powers it was perhaps best not to dwell on the how.

"Robin, was that there before? What is it and how did you come to get it?" Lucina looked between him and the orb held in his grasp.

"I… I don't know what it is. But I think Naga gave it to me. Said something about how I'd know what to do," Robin explained.

"Naga? You spoke to her directly?" Lucina's eyes widened.

"Not exactly. One moment I was talking to Tikin the next it seemed like Naga was inside her somehow, speaking through her. I will explain more later," Robin said. Digging through his pockets he found folded pieces of paper. Unraveling the sheet, he crumpled it around the orb before stuffing it back into an inside coat pocket.

"We need to tell your father the change of plans. Messengers need to be sent out to gather everyone we can at Ylisstol, and as quickly as possible. I don't think we have much time to prepare."

Lucina opened her mouth as if to question what he was talking about, then stopped, her expression turning to one of stern resolve. She dipped her head in a sharp nod. "Of course, lead the way."

Together they set off back into camp. As they walked Robin found his mind awhirl with thoughts, replaying everything he had learned again and again even as the beginnings of battle plans took shape. All the while a shadow loomed at the edge of sight, a storm cloud of war gathering strength.

It was time they faced this enemy head on

* * *

**Character Spotlight:** Lucina

**Skills:** Aether, Luna, Galeforce, Rightful King, Awakening

**Personal Skill:** Foreseer \- When supporting a unit, Skill chance to negate an incoming attack against the lead unit. Lucina takes damage equal to ½ that the protected unit would have taken. Will not activate when absorbed damage would be fatal to Lucina.

**Equipment:** Parallel Falchion (carried at all times), Short Spear (only into battle).

**Ability Details:** Originally Lucina employed a fighting style identical to her father's. However after her loss against him in the Ferox Arena she realized that her own reletive lack of physical strength and smaller size compared to many other fighters made her less suited for a style which focused on overpowering an opponent. Since then she learned to adapt the techniques she'd learned to better play to her strengths: relying more on speed and precise strikes to defeat an opponent. With this style Lucina has become adept at defeating foes more physically imposing than herself as well as at being able to fell enemies in rapid succession with well placed thrusts and slashes to vital areas.


	10. Whatever Awaits

"Robin, are you ready?" Chrom asked.

"Yeah, just a second, I need-" Before Robin could finished the stack of scrolls and other documents cradled in his arms tipped to one side. He fumbled, frantically trying to the right the capsizing pile, but to no avail. Nearly half of his papery burden spilled onto the floor. "Gods… I'll get it."

Grumbling in frustration through clenched teeth, Robin knelt to clean the mess. He caught movement in the corner of his eyes, and when he turned to look he saw that Lucina had slipped down next to him. She scooped up scrolls, depositing them into his arms.

"You know, when you refused my offer to help carry those, I did say this would likely happen," she teased, offering a stack of folded maps to him.

"Well, I thought I had it," Robin replied, taking the documents. "This time I'll be wiser and accept your offer. I'll take this lot, and you can take the rest?" he said, his words somewhere between a statement and a question.

Nodding, Lucina scooped up what was left, returning. Once she had, Robin returned back to Chrom. "Right, now I'm ready."

Chrom smiled. He stooped down, picking up scroll Robin had missed, setting it at the top of the pile. "There, now you are. Best not to keep everyone waiting."

"Whenever you are "

Turning to the door, Chrom threw it open and stepped inside. Robin and Lucina followed him inside only a step behind.

It had been several days since Robin's conversation with Tiki via astral projection. In that time after their efforts had been focused on returning to Ylisstol, with their arrival coming late in the afternoon the previous day. During that time Robin had put all his efforts on planning the upcoming battle, with both Chrom and Lucina giving their own input. Besides them, however, the plan had yet to be shared with any other.

And so was it that we came to the subject of the present meeting.

Inside the chamber a large oaken table had been set out, taken from it's usual spot in the dining hall to serve as the centerpiece for the meeting. Chairs had been laid around it, the majority already occupied.

All of the Shepherds, both former and active, who could be reached in the short time frame were present. Seated around the table were Sumia, Lissa, Lon'qu, Frederick, Cherche, Stahl, Cordelia, Morgan, Marc, Nah, Cynthia, Gerome, Laurent, and Kjelle, as well as the new arrivals of Maribelle, Ricken, Donnel, Nowi, Gregor, Sully, Miriel, and Kellam; all of whom had come to Ylisstol only in the past few days. Messages had been sent to the others, but it would be sometime before they would both receive the summons and make their way here. That was time they could not afford to delay.

Moving quickly to the end of the table, Robin quickly began to lay out maps and diagrams onto the table. The scrolls not needed yet he stacked into a pile in the corner of the table. Meanwhile Lucina took her seat in the empty chair next to his own. Chrom as well moved over to his chair, only he remained standing.

A murmur of whispers filled the room, the gathered Shepherds talking quietly amongst themselves.

Robin turned to Chrom, giving him a quick nod to indicate he was ready to start. Chrom returned the gesture in kind. Even as Robin slipped into his chair, Chrom stepped forward, clearing his throat.

The murmuring stopped, all eyes falling on the Exalt.

"Thank you. Now, as all here know too well, our world has been under siege by an unknown foe from another world. A foe who can appear without warning, and vanish just a quickly," Chrom began, cutting right to the point. As always, he was not one to dally about.

Chrom leaned forward, pressing the palms of his hand onto the edge of the table, gazing out over the assembled Shepherds. "I am going to put it plainly. I'm angry. Angry that the peace we earned after Grima's defeat is now on danger. Angry lives are in danger."

He straightened back to his full highest. "And I'm fed up with it. Now's the time we put a stop to this." he motioned to Robin with a hand. "Robin has a plan. It's a longshot, but our plans always have been. We will use the very portals our enemy creates to enter their world and take the fight to them."

Silence. No one moved or spoke, everyone assembled there watching Chrom intently.

_At least no one is looking at us like we are crazy… yet,_ Robin noted, paying heed of the expressions shown on the faces of the gathered Shepherds.

"I know, it will be dangerous. But at this point we are out of options and cannot afford to remain on the defensive any longer," Chrom continued.

More silence.

"What about Naga, can't she just send us there herself?" Lissa asked, breaking the still. "Sounds like it would be way easier if you asked me,"

Robin glanced at Chrom, looking for confirmation to speak. The exalt nodded his head. Nodding back, Robin cleared his throat. "No. Naga's power is not unlimited, and she expended much of what she had to spare to send us to aid that other timeline. From what Tiki said, she at best could send a few of us, but I'd rather save that as a backup plan if all else fails."

Robin fell silent, and began to take a step back from the table. He froze. Chrom wasn't speaking. It took an instant to realize that rather than pick up where he left off, Chrom was expecting him to explain the plan in more detail.

_And this is why we should plan these sessions out before hand,_ Robin thought, sighing inwardly.

"The plan itself will be relatively simple. The bulk of our forces will engage the enemy while a strike force will attempt to reach the portal while it is still active," he explained, motioning with his hands at one of the diagrams laid out on the table.

"Is there not a considerable risk that by the time we could arrive at any of the portals it could be deactivated in a shorter timeframe than necessary for such a team to reach it?" Laurent asked.

"Indeed. There is the additional matters of contention including altitude and necessary capacity of the space-time anomaly to deliberate," Miriel added. The mage pushed her glasses onto the bridge of her nose as she finished.

"That is why we are going to arrive where the portal will be in advance. I've given this some thought, and I am almost certain our foe seeks to launch a full invasion from the Ruins of Time," Robin answered. "It strategically makes sense for him to use that location. Reality runs thinner there. It's because… well, some sort of magical catastrophe or another several thousand years ago. It's not important. What we do care about is that a portal much bigger than the others could be created there."

Robin paused again, pacing a step and back before resuming. "This has the added benefit of giving us the best chance of using it to our advantage. It will take time to fully stabilize, giving us a window where we can get close and use it as a back door to launching a counter assault of our own."

The room fell silent once again, the gathered Shepherds considering what had been said.

Then without warning Sully spoke up. "So, get to the point. Who's going to be on this strike team and how many? That's the question I care about."

"The team will need to be small if we are going to make it through the portal. Nine, ten, dozen at most. As for composition, that will come down to volunteers," Robin answered.

"I volunteer to lead the strike force," Morgan said, bolting upright before anyone else had a chance to speak. She stood up so quickly that she knocked her chair over, the wood clattering loudly through the chamber.

"And I'm going too," Marc said, standing as well. Due in part to his stiffer, slower movements on account of her healing injuries, he managed to do so without collateral victims in the form of nearby furniture.

Robin looked between his children, seeing the determined, resolute looks on their faces. A weary sigh fell from his lips. He'd expected this; knowing full well that they would insist on being part of the team. He knew that Morgan in particular would be adamant that she should lead. After her nearly disastrous mistake on the last mission she'd led, she would see undertaking command of such a dangerous mission as a form of penance for her failure.

"Denied, I will be leading it myself. Nor are either of you going to be part of the strike team," Robin told them, shaking his head.

"What? Why not?!" Morgan asked, staring at him in disbelief. "That's not fair! We should be part of this!"

"Morgan…" Marc said, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder.

"No, it's not okay," Morgan snapped, jerking away from his touch. She turned her gaze back to Robin. "Father, if this is because you want to protect us, it's not fair. We can handle ourselves and you know it!"

Robin raised a hand, palm out to her, and tried his best 'stern father look' he could muster. "I will admit, not wanting to put either of you at risk is part of my decision…"

"See! I knew it! Then you can't-"

"-But that is not the main reason for my decision. If it were only my desire to keep you two safe, I would swallow my personal fears and allow your request should you insist," Robin interrupted. "But I have other reasons, which I'd like for you to hear out."

For a moment Morgan looked like she was going to argue. Then, if reluctantly, she nodded her head.

"The main reason is simple: I need people I trust to stay behind. More importantly, I need someone to act as tactician. And with our leader being part of the strike team…" Robin paused, motioning to Chrom, "...we are going to need someone to take charge of the situation here."

Morgan looked up at him, the frustration burning behind her eyes subsiding somewhat. Even still, she shook her head. "But…"

"Morgan, know that the reason I am doing this is not that I think you aren't ready," Robin told her, speaking more gently now. He gave her a reassuring smile. "rather it is because I have full faith that you are ready. I would never give you such an important task if I did not believe that."

"We _both_ believe that you can do this. There is no one else we would rather leave in our stead," Lucina agreed, moving to step alongside her husband. "Is our faith misplaced?"

Morgan bristled at this suggestion, fire flashing in her eyes. "Of course not, mother. You can count on me!"

Robin smiled, nodding to his daughter in approval. "And Marc," he added, turning to his son. "The same goes for you as well. I know you are not quite as comfortable taking the role of tactician as your sister, but you are just important. You have a level head and a good instinct for leadership, so you're needed to keep everyone together back home." He paused, then added. "Plus in all honesty, you are not in the best shape to go on such as dangerous mission. If you were wholly healed, things might be different, but for now I need you to focus on resting."

Marc nodded. "I understand father. I… I just wish we could go with. But I know why, and that has to be enough, right?" he asked, looking more than a bit uncertain as he said it. It seemed to Robin's ears that Marc was as much asking the question to himself than to anyone else.

"I know. But this is how it must be I am afraid," Robin sighed and turned back to the others. "Chrom?" he asked.

"Right," Chrom acknowledged. He stood, facing the gathered Shepherds. "Those who wish to be part of the strike force need not volunteer immediately. This decision is not one we can ask lightly or expect to be made without careful consideration," he told them, looking from each in turn as he spoke.

"Nor is volunteering a guarantee of being part of the mission. It is necessary that many of us remain behind, and the composition of the strike force is one that must be decided on with tactics in mind," Robin interjected. He stepped aside the moment he was done speaking, not wanting to intrude on Chrom's speech for longer than necessary. It would be rather inconsiderate if he broke up the flow of things, after all.

Chrom glanced his way, giving a quick nod of thanks. Though Robin though he caught a glimpse of mild annoyance flash in the Exalt's eyes the instant before he turned back to resume addressing the others.

"Neither should anyone who is denied part or decides against going believe that we think any less of them. Those who remain behind have their own task before them of equal importance: to protect our home while we are away."

Chrom turned, pacing the head of the table and back. "I know that all of you have your own lives now, your own duties. That is why I cannot command any of you to follow me on this dire endeavor. I can only ask it of you, as comrades and friends. Even if we no longer serve together as Shepherds, that title belongs to each and everyone of us. And there is none else in this world but my Shepherd brothers and sisters who I would trust more to fight by my side. So now I ask, will you follow me?"

The room fell utterly silent, the only sounds that could be heard the whisper of breath and soft rustle of small movements. Robin dragged his eyes over the grave faces staring back at him and Chrom. Each wore a slightly different expression, but all shared the same core.

Resolve.

Whether they were worried, excited, uncertain, tense, fearful, relaxed, or weary in that moment, each of the Shepherds showed the same resolve he had seen in them throughout the many trials they had faced together. No matter what they may feel about what was to come, they would follow Chrom and himself to hell and back: not just because of loyalty or duty, but because each and everyone of them were bound closer than that. They were a family: often a dysfunctional one that would drive each other crazy at the drop of a hat, but a family nonetheless.

One by one they nodded, standing to face Chrom: their leader and their friend.

"You can count on me to keep watch on things until you get home, my love," Sumia said, breaking the silence.

"Are you kidding me? Not about to sit this one out, even if someone tries to make me," Lissa said next, turning to look at her husband, Lon'qu, and nudged him with her elbow. With all the progress he'd made with his gynophobia, the swordsman only barely flinched at her touch.

"Is it even a question that we will follow you?" He asked, looking to Chrom. "We've all stuck with you through worse."

"I would follow you even were it to certain death, milord," Frederick proclaimed proudly.

"Agreed. As so would Minerva, were she small enough to fit inside and take part in this meeting," Cherche added, a smile on her lips. Outside the room the distant roar of a wyvern could be heard.

"Hear hear, darling! To think we would let anyone threaten our people," Maribelle agreed.

"Yeah! Let's show these things that our world means business," Ricken said, his voice brimming with exuberance.

"Gregor followed onto back of big dragon. Hee hee, that was good time. This no different," the mercenary proclaimed, chuckling to himself even after he'd spoken

"Yeah, let's kick this dastards back into their homes. No one invades my home and gets away with it," Sull proclaimed, raising a fist to punctuation her words.

It was difficult to tell who spoke next, their voice seeming faint and emanating from thin air. "I'm going too! Not that any of you heard this… But I'll be there regardless."

"You can always trust us to fight at your side" Cordelia promised

"Yeah. We've been through too much not to," Stahl agreed.

"I reckon if I followed ya both this far, I can't rightly turn back to the farm now with trouble brewin'," Donnel proclaimed, adjusting the pot on her head as he spoke

"You bet!" Nowi agreed, cheerful as ever.

"Wouldn't be very heroic of me to just quit now. I'm with you, father," Cynthia announced, practically hopping up and down as she spoke.

"I am with you also," Gerome said simply in agreement with his girlfriend.

"I will see the mysteries before us illuminated so that our foe can be vanquished," Laurent agreed.

"Just tell me where to go and I'll be there," Kjelle added bluntly, rolling her shoulders in anticipation.

"You can count on me," Morgan chimed in.

"Me too," Marc said.

"And me as well," Nah agreed from where she stood next to him. Even as she spoke she and Marc's hands intertwined, squeezing together tightly.

"And you can count on us as well," Lucina finished, speaking for both Robin and herself. She gripped Falchions pommel proudly, resolve upon her face.

Chrom nodded, a smile on his lips as he gazed at each of the gathered Shepherds. "And in return to each of you I vow to do everything in my power to fight by your side and see peace returned to our world." He motioned with a hand, inviting them to sit once more. "Come, we have more to discuss and preparations to be made, so we will keep this brief. I am sure each of you will have matters of your own to attend before tomorrow. Know that when morning comes, we will depart."

He turned to Robin. "Care to quickly go over the details of the plan?"

Robin nodded. Straightening in his chair, he pressed both hands against the table to begin. "So, once we arrive the plan is to split our army into several groups. The first will…"

So the meeting went on as Robin laid out the general focus of their assault on the rift. An hour passed before he finished and the discussion was at last put to rest. Now the hard part could begin:

To decide who would accompany them on the strike force.

To decide who would follow them to what could quite possibly be their doom.

**. . . . .**

Robin reached out for the door that led to his room. Curling his fingers around the handle he did not immediately throw it open, instead slowly pushing it partially open as quiet as could be. He peeked his head inside, mindful of the noise of his movements.

The room inside was dark, lit only by a single candle on his desk. He blinked, the rest of the room taking shape as his eyes adjusted to the flickering glow. Lucina sat at the edge of her bed, rocking one of the infants in her arms. The other lay already sleeping in the crib at their bedside.

Since the meeting Robin had spent several hours talking to each of the Shepherds in turn, trying the work through the problem of who would be assigned to what part of the crucial mission. Not that he had expected otherwise: the fact that just about every Shepherd would volunteer for the strike team was an eventuality he'd taken into account to begin with. So in the end the decision of who would go was to be one of tactics.

While he had done this Lucina had gone to the wet nurse who had been entrusted to look after both of the little ones while they'd been away. Tomorrow they would be returned to her care but for tonight both Lucina and himself had wished to look after their own children. Not knowing what might happen after… well, it was best not to have regrets.

Opening the door the rest of the way, Robin tip-toed inside, carefully closing it behind him once more. A soft squeak from the hinge no louder than a whisper alerted Lucina to his presence. She looked up at him, smiling softly then brought a finger to her lips.

Robin nodded. He quietly slipped over to her, sitting down next to her.

"They giving you any trouble?" he whispered.

"Not too much. Marc fell asleep right away. Morgan's been more difficult. Only just got her asleep a moment ago." Lucina looked down at the infant nestled in her arms. "Sometimes a part of me believes there was some sort of mix up, as our older Morgan is quite the opposite. You know how impossible it is to get her out of bed."

"Heh, no doubt," Robin replied, stifling a chuckle at the amusing observation. "I wonder sometimes if there will be more differences between them and their older selves, as they grow up. It will be quite the interesting next decade or so."

"Yes… it will…" Lucina murmured softly. Something about her tone then stopped Robin in place. She sounded sad, almost resigned.

Standing, Lucina moved over to the crib, lowering Morgan down into it. However, even as she straightened and took a step back her eyes did not leave the slumbering twins. She remained there, utterly still and silent for several long moments, so long that when she finally did speak Robin scarcely noticed it.

"They look so peaceful, do they not," she stated simply. She did not look up at him. "I wish they could always be so: free of fear and worry."

"I know," Robin replied. He was not sure what else to say. He felt… tired. So very tired… and sad… sad knowing the time they had with their children was all too short. Time that might be their last.

And he knew Lucina felt it too.

Robin stood as well, moving next to his wife. Even if he did not know what to say, he could as least be there and remain close. When all else failed, he could still do that.

Another moment passed and Lucina at last stirred, looking up at him. "How did the planning go?" she asked, her voice barely loud enough to be considered a whisper. Here blue eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light, blue and dark as the deepest oceans.

"Well enough…" He sighed wearily. "Tomorrow we will depart for the Ruins of Time. I wish…" Robin trailed off. It felt as though a great weight had fallen on his chest, making it difficult to speak.

"...that we had more time," Lucina finished sadly. She shook her head once and blinked twice, as if fighting against tears only just starting to form. "I know. I wish it too."

Robin nodded. He glanced down at the crib and back to the forlorn figure of his wife. Seeing her like this… well, in his heart he already knew what he must do.

"You don't have to go, you know," Robin said, breaking the quiet.. "I'd understand if you'd rather stay with them. Would be better that way: if it all goes wrong then they won't grow up without…" his voice cracked and he trailed off, finding it impossible to speak through the lump that lodged itself in his throat.

Lucina looked back at him, her expression softening to one of tender understanding. She blinked once, and Robin could see that her eyes glistened with wetness. Then the corners of her lips tugged back, forming a sad, knowing smile.

"It is funny: I was about to make the same offer to you instead," she stated. She laughed softly, the sound carrying all at once worry, joy, and sadness in equal measure.

Robin nodded. "So it's no then." It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

"Would it be any different for you if I had offered first?"

Robin shook his head. No, it would not be.

For a moment Lucina said nothing, her eyes fixed on him. Seconds ticked by. Then a minute. Then at last she broke the silence. "All this fighting… every moment away from our children, not knowing if we will ever return… has been more painful than any torment I can fathom. I wish more than anything that I could stay with them. That neither of us would go, neither of us would risk that our children would grow up not knowing one or both of their parents…" She paused and Robin saw that she was crying. Tears traced rivers of silver down her cheeks, glinting in the pale candlelight. "I wish it more than the world itself. But in my heart I know we-" her voice broke and she faltered, falling silent once more.

Without hesitating for even a moment Robin reached out, closing a hand around his wife's own. "-that we must. For their sake. For everyone's sake," he finished for her.

Lucina nodded, her expression hardening even through the tears. "For their sake," she repeated, her voice firm now. "We both know that. We cannot sit idly when someone would threaten our world, our shared future. A world where our children can live free of war and despair. No matter what it takes, we will not let anyone steal that future that away."

"No matter the what it takes," Robin agreed. It was only then that he realized he was crying now too. He brought a hand to his cheek, his fingers coming away wet.

He gazed fell down at where his children lay, sleeping softly in their crib. It was rare for both twins to rest quietly at the same time. They looked so peaceful, both far too young to understand the uncertain future that loomed before them. Perhaps it was best that it was so. If he and Lucina could protect them, make sure that they would never have to face such fear, he would.

Without a word Robin reached down, scooping up Marc into his arms, careful not to wake the sleeping infant. He rocked him gently, even as Lucina did the same with Morgan. Together they moved to sit at the edge their bed, cradling their children as the night stretched on. The two sat as close to one another as they may, Lucina leaning her shoulder against his.

No words passed between them then, as none existed that would be adequate. No, right then just knowing the other was close seemed like enough. The comfort of being together as their children rested softly in their arms was enough.

And so for hours they remained there, sleep all but forgotten. Rest seemed so unimportant then, not when so little time remained. In the morning they would depart, when for the sake of their children they would leave them behind.

No matter what it takes. No matter what the future holds, they would do everything to ensure their future was a happy one.

In the distance a great shadow loomed before them, growing with each passing moment. Soon very soon, they would face it. So it was that the night grew ever later, passing as the two awaited whatever the dawn might bring.

No matter what the future holds, they would face it together.

* * *

**Character Spotlight:** Morgan

**Skills:** Aether, Ignis, Galeforce, Vantage, Tomefaire

**Personal Skill:** Mixed Bloodline - After a successful activation of a skill on an attack, unit has a 20% chance to roll for a second skill (provided they have one equipt). If the second activates apply its effect to the attack as well.

**Equipment** : Bolganone, Arcthunder, Elwind, Arcfire, and a Rapier (Eirika's Blade)

**Ability Details:** Taking after her father, Morgan is a skilled spellcaster despite her young age. However, where her father specializes in lightning spells, Morgan finds herself more adept at fire magic due to it requiring a greater emphasis on raw power and force of will than on personal discipline and focus.

While Morgan has been trained in swordplay by her mother, she is a far less skilled swordsmen than her mother or twin brother, favoring magic to an even greater degree than her father. When she does resort to melee combat she used the same fighting style as her mother, using a light, elegant blade to best utilize swift and precise strikes.


	11. Battle Before the Rift

Robin pulled his coat tighter around himself to ward against the frigid cold. Even with the spells he'd cast to reduce the bite of the wind and icy fingers of frost he still felt like he was half frozen. _How on earth can people live with this for months on end? Four days march and I'm already done with it._

But then again, the people of Ragna Ferox had always been far sturdier than the people further south. Not to mention he himself was a Plegian, even if he had no memories of his childhood. It was hard to find lands more different than the two.

Gritting his teeth, Robin trudged onward through the snow plains. They were not far now as is, maybe a mile or two further before they reached the Ruins of Time.

It had been almost a week of hard travel to get here, their progress slowed by the army that accompanied them. In the month of mobilization they had prior to setting out, Chrom and himself had managed to scrounge up a decent sized force of a seven hundred and fifty soldiers. Most were footmen, but they also had a hundred light cavalry and two hundred archers. This however was nowhere near the full war capacity of Ylisse. If given more time and were they able to afford leaving fewer behind to protect the capital then perhaps the number at their disposal would be larger. But given the circumstances this was the best they could do.

_I just hope it's enough._

Along with the army, every member of the Shepherds who had taken part in the planning was present, marching alongside himself and Chrom at the front of the procession.

It has taken some long debate, but after some time Robin had narrowed down who would be accompanying himself, Chrom, and Lucina on the strike force. There were ten of them in total, including the three of them. The others would be Frederick, Lissa, Lon'qu, Laurent, Kjelle, Stahl, and Cordelia.

The army moved in mostly silence, the only voices to be heard a droning murmur of countless hushed conversations. The bleak environment did not help such matters: it was hard to be jovial in such a frigid and empty land. Even he, Lucina, Chrom, and Sumia had barely spoken to one another the whole day, even as they traveled side by side.

Slowly the plains began to rise, growing more craggy and strewn with weathered stone and crumbling ruins so old they could barely be recognized as such.

_We're close._

Robin felt his step lighten at the thought, the trek feeling less difficult now with the end in sight.

Scrambling up a small hill, Robin halted, his eyes falling to their destination. The Ruins of Time loomed ahead, no more than a mile's distance lying between. The crumbling expanse of icy blue stone seemed to almost glow with an ethereal light, as if bathing in the radiance of a full moon even in that of an overcast day.

Chrom came to a halt beside him, calling for the army to slow. "So what's our move?"

Robin scratched his chin. "We go in slow. We can't get too close before the portal appears."

Chrom nodded, turning away to give the orders.

Soon enough they were moving again, descending the hill and slowly marching over the planes.

It was at that moment Robin suddenly realized Lucina had started to lag behind. Chrom must have noticed it too, for in unison both of them stopped in their tracks, turning to look at Lucina. She was standing alone, her expression grave.

"Something is wrong, it's too quiet," Lucina muttered, speaking up for the first time in hours.

Robin frowned, strained his ears, listening intently. Come to think of it, it was oddly quiet. Other than the sound of their company, there was nothing. No sign of bird or beast in the surrounding land. Not even was there the whistle of wind or crinkling of tough tundra grass. It was if the whole world had been frozen in time.

"Tell the army to slow down. I don't like this," Robin said, turning back to Chrom.

It was as Chrom began to do as he'd said, turning to relay the orders down their lines that Robin heard it. No, heard was not the right word, more like felt it: a low pitched hum that reverberated inside his skull. With each passing second it grew louder and louder, until it was audible to the naked ear. Some of the soldiers covered their ears, faces twisting with discomfort, while some even fell to their knees.

"Robin, what is that?" Chrom asked, shouting as the piercing noise grew ever louder.

Now that he could make it out, Robin realized that the hum was not uniform. It rose and fell in pitch, thrumming with greater and greater frequency. Robin's eyes went wide, realizing he'd seen this before. The vantage point, the lighting, the landscape: it was all identical to the vision.

"Back! Everyone, get back!"

The thrumming reached its crescendo. There was a shrill, high pitched whine, then suddenly… nothing. The sound ceased, the whole world falling utterly still and quiet.

_Boom, boom._ The beating of Robin's own heart was deafening in his ears.

_Boom, boom,_ came the next heartbeat.

Suddenly a flash of light lit up the sky, emanating from a single point at the very heart of the Ruins of Time. A deep, bellowing groan filling the air, coming from the depths of the very earth itself. A blast of hot wind crashed into them in a wave, staggering many with it's weight. Behind it the earth rippled outward, seeming as though the icy plains were little more than a lake into which a great stone had been cast. Behind the ground cracked a split, spewing molten rock and billowing flame skyward.

In an instant Robin remembered a time years before, when the portal had opened in the sky to bring both Lucina and the Risen pursuing her into this world. Only this was on a greater scale, the land itself tearing itself to shreds under the strain of the opening of dimensions. He wondered if this was not the first time this spot had seen such a catastrophe, whether or not if the ruin were a reminder of the peril brought upon those who would breach worlds in millennia past.

A crack like thunder, only somehow distorted, obliterated all other sound. A wave of light burst from the center ot the ruins, toppling columns and flattening crumbling walls as it consumed everything around it. Energy crackled at it's edge, casting a prismatic werelight over the land.

Then with a warbling pop, the energy rushed in on itself, imploding into a single point. Chunks of the debris few inward drawn by an unseen force.

Then with a final crackle it stopped, the rim of the energy hanging in place. Dust and mist swirled around it, drawing in the vast pool of magical power into a vortex. At its center was a hole in reality itself. Beyond lay a world seen only as shadowy glimpses beneath the churning sea.

Then came the phantoms.

Like oiled shadows they flowed from the rift, spreading outward over the ruins and into the burning plains. Within moments there had to be a thousand, maybe more arrayed against the Ylissean army. Dark clouds drew together in the sky, blotting out all but the ghostly light of the gateway.

For a moment Robin could only stare, his mind racing as he attempted to process what had occurred. All around the Ylissian army was in disarray, many staring in shock while others had been knocked over by the shockwaves unleashed by the portal's entrance.

"Gods," he heard Chrom whisper from beside him.

Then Robin's instincts kicked in, orders falling from his lips before he even had a chance to register them.

"Chrom, we need our footmen to form a defensive wall! Archers behind, we need to hit them before they reach us. Calvary to our flanks, drive off any attempt to surround us!"

At once Chrom began to relay the orders to the army captains. The four hundred-odd Ylissean soldiers moved to obey. Footmen formed in line to either side of the Shepherds, who were to take the center. A chorus of bow strings twanged, a wave of arrows sailing high overhead to fall on the front line of the enemy. The shadow wavered and seemed to fade, only to reform as those behind took the place of the fallen.

"Mages!" Robin shouted. In unison all of the Shepherd spell casters stepped forward, brandishing tomes as they unleashed a torrent of fire, lightning, and wind that ripped into the enemy forces.

Still the phantoms charged onward, a ceaseless wave that shimmered and flowed over the burning plains.

"Here they come. Are you ready my love?' Lucina asked, glancing his way. In a flash Falchion rang out as it cleared it's sheath.

"I am," Robin replied. He drew his own sword, the blade seeming to glow of the purple werelight cast by the portal and the flickering radiance of the flames dancing in the distance. The whole world had taken on almost a sense of unreality, as if they'd stepped into a waking dream.

Robin lowered his head and closed his eyes. He poured his full concentration onto the task before him. On what was at stake and on what he must do. He allowed his heart to still. He took a slow, deep breath and opened his eyes. Lightning sparked around his left hand as he stared down the mass of invisible warriors bounding towards them

_For my world. For my friends. For my family. For our future. Today we finish this._

Then the wave of shadow was upon them. Spears and swords met in a song of ringing steel, cut with the agonized screams of the wounded and dying. Where the lines met it was the frantic chaos of all melee combat, men and phantoms clashing in a tide of metal and blood.

"Thoron!" Lightning leapt from Robin's fingertips, lancing into the mass of flame wreathed shadows. He drew his sword and lunged forward, hacking at the foes who flowed in to fill the gap. Lucina was beside him, Falchion burning with pale blue light that seemed to drive back the phantoms like a lantern against the dark.

The two moved in perfect step with one-another, driving into the phantom army in a maelstrom of blade and spell. When one blocked a blow the other would counter. When one pressed an attack the other would protect their back. When one attacked head on the other would flank. When one staggered an opponent the other would deliver the finishing blow. In perfect sync they fought not as individuals, but as merely two parts of a greater whole.

As they fought Robin noticed that unlike the previous phantoms they'd fought, many of these were quite different. While the majority wore garb similar to warriors from Chon'sin, countless others bore arms and armor of design reminiscent of those seen in Valm, Ragna Ferox, and Ylisse. Their tactics too were different, relying less on mobility and more on direct strength and heavier armor.

_It's like the army is made of several different cultures,_ Robin realized. _But are they working together, or are these conquered nations forced to work under a single force?_

All around the other Shepherds moved together, driving forward into the center of the enemy lines. They were the tip of the wedge, and as powerful as the enemy may be, they could not hope to hold against the handful of experienced warriors.

Nearby Chrom fought side by side with several of the other Shepherds. He charged, the Exalted Falchion haloed with a searing golden radiance as it scattered foes left and right.

Further back Robin glimpsed Morgan, his daughter flinging spell after spell over their heads to crash into the heart of the enemy line. Marc was at her side, his injuries preventing him from taking up position with the other melee fighters. Instead he had agreed to stay close to his sister, only engaging foes who reached their position further back.

_Whoosh._

_Whoosh._

_Whoosh._

The sound of wings overhead grabbed Robin's attention. Looking up he saw several dark shapes against the gray sky. From their shape they seemed to be a mix of pegasus and wyvern knights, though some looked to be on the backs of strange massive birds. A whistle filled the air, arrows and javelins raining down upon the Shepherd's lines.

"Arcwind!" A funnel of air burst from Robin's fingertips, aimed upward to intercept the missiles. The vortex of glowing wind acted as an umbrella, scattering the projectiles as easy were they rain.

While the spell protected himself and his fellow Shepherds, the Ylissean soldiers further away were far less fortunate. A dozen or more fell dead or dying, arrows piercing armor. And Robin could do nothing but look on helplessly.

"Archers!" Robin ordered.

A volley of arrows flew overhead as the Ylisseans returned fire, dropping several of the flying enemies and scattering the rest.

In that instant the Shepherds own flyers swooped in. Sumia, Cynthia, Cordelia, Cherche, Gerome, Nowi, and Nah all tore into the disorganized enemies not slain by the arrows. Shadowy pegasuses and wyverns dropped like stones, slain by the lances, axes, and dragonfire of the mounted Shepherds. Seconds later they wheeled away, clearing the sky for a second volley before darting back in to finish off any of the skyward phantoms that remained.

Robin smiled slightly, glad to see the tactic had been pulled off. He'd instructed their handful of flying troops to hold back until the enemy sent ones of their own. By timing their attacks between volleys of arrows they could effectively clear the skies despite being far outnumbered in the area of airborne troops.

With the skies back under their control, the advance could continue. Despite the toll the phantoms were taking, the Shepherds and Ylissean soldiers were steadily gaining ground. So far all the enemy seemed to be able to do was continue to throw waves of soldiers at them, which proved little good.

This alone gave Robin pause. _Why aren't they changing tactics? Are they merely trying to delay us? Or do they have some sort of trap planned for us._

Either way, something didn't feel right. And he wasn't about to have them charge forwardly blindly just yet.

"Chrom, we need to stop advancing before we overextended. Get everyone to regroup and hold position here," Robin shouted, hacking down a phantom swordsman as he did.

To his right Chrom turned to give him a quick nod. Swinging Falchion in a wide arc he swept aside the two invisible soldiers closest to him, buying him enough room to withdraw and relay the commands down the line.

Within the span of several minutes the army had reformed itself into a straight line: the tip of the wedge holding fast while the wings pushed forward until they were parallel. Still, the phantom army flung themselves at the Ylisseans, heedless of their own safety.

_Come on, what's your game? Make your move._

_Thump._

The ground rumbled in the distance.

_Thump, thump, thump._

Robin felt the dirt and rock under his feet tremble under the weight of what seemed to be thousands of footsteps. No, not that many. There were far fewer, but whatever was coming their way had to be massive.

_Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump_

An inhuman cry filled the air, joined by others in a cacophony of shrieks. From the midst of the shadowy sea lumbered massive figures with grey-green rotting skin, faceless iron masks over their faces from, eyes burning like flames from within.

"Great, just what we needed," Robin muttered.

Undead monstrosities of the type he and Lucina had faced in Corgrove, their number dozens strong, charged towards the Ylissean lines. They barreled through their own forces, trampling and bashing any invisible soldiers caught in their path with a single, mindless purpose.

_They don't even care how many of their own troops die,_ Robin realized.

"Archers! Give them a volley. Don't let those things get near!" Chrom bellowed.

Bowstring twanged, a swarm of wooden shafts arcing high into the sky before raining down on the heads of the hulking undead. Bolts pinged off their masks or sunk into bulging shoulders, arms, and chests. Several of the creatures stumbled under the barrage, howling in rage. Yet even as some became so full of arrows that they resembled a pincushion only a handful fell, the rest thundering forward heedless of their wounds.

"Mages, focus fire. Don't let them get close!" Robin shouted.

Spells crackled, smashing into the undead behemoths closest to them. Rotting flesh sizzled and smoked, consumed by blasts of fire an electricity.

One of the creatures was obliterated entirely through the combined efforts of both Morgan and himself's strongest spells. In the span of seconds maybe ten fell under the torrent of elemental magic.

Then they were upon them.

The hulking monstrosities crashes into the Ylissean lines with the force of an avalanche, tossing footmen aside as if little more than a child's playthings. Men screamed in agony as they were trampled underfoot or thrown into their comrades. Others fell back entirely allowing the creatures to drive deeper into the defender's lines.

A dozen of the creatures came towards the Shepherds themselves. The closest lunged at Robin and Lucina, hands raised over it's head as it roared.

They leapt to either side, avoiding the overhead blow. Swords flashed as they counted cutting at it's knees before darting back out if reach to avoid the undead's flailing counter attack. A bolt of lightning leapt from Robin's hands, staggering the monster. Even as it fell to one knee, Lucina stepped inn driving her sword up through it's side and into it's chest.

She ripped the blade free, whirling to cut at the next foe before the first had even hit the ground. Robin followed a step behind, launching a flurry of electric jolts to keep the beast off balance while Lucina sliced it to pieces.

"Chrom, we need to stop these things. Hit them enough times and they go down!" Robin shouted.

The frantic order was given, the Ylissean soldiers moving to obey the commands. A wall of spears and swords closed in around the creatures driving deep troughs into the army's defenses. As strong and durable as the undead were they could not survive the combined onslaught of dozens of trained soldiers attacking all at once. One after another the behemoths fell, pierced by lances and arrows, dissolving into sickly black sludge as they died.

"Thoron!"

"Bolganone!"

The spells engulfed the final faceless undead, a howl of agony echoing from inside it's mask. It staggered forward, the smoke clearing to reveal blackened, burnt flesh that oozed thick, oily blood. It managed one more step, then jerked suddenly, Lucina driving Falchion through it's headed.

With a final fell cry it collapsed fading away into goop before that too had vanished into nothingness.

"Everyone alright?" Chrom asked, speaking out to everyone within earshot.

Robin nodded. Taking advantage of the brief respite, he used the time to quickly survey the army's status. Even with the undead vanquished, it was at once apparent the toll it had taken. The creatures had barreled deep into the Ylissean lines, so that while they had caused minimal casualties they had disrupted their formations.

Meanwhile the remaining enemy had used this chance to regroup and reform rather than launch an attack of their own. That must have been their plan, to use the undead as shock troops to buy themselves time to bring the full force of their superior numbers to bare.

"Chrom, we need to regroup, now!" Robin shouted, whirling to face his friend with all speed he could muster.

Their eyes met and it took but an instant for the Exalt to register the urgency carried in that single look. At once he sprang into action. "Fall back and reform lines, quickly!" Chrom ordered relaying the command down the formation.

Soldiers rushed to fill the gaps created by the massive undead. Spear were braced and shields locked, and without a moment to spare. Like a ocean wave made of liquid shadows the army of invisible soldiers crashed into them. Even as they broke, just like the incoming tide they drew back a step, reformed and surged forward. Reformed and advance, reformed and advance, reformed and advance: for every step back they gained two more.

"Hold formation, do not break," Chrom shouted, his voice cutting through the song of clashing swords and roar of countless voices as he urged the Ylisseans to hold together, even as they fell back.

Back and back the army fell, unable to hold under the onslaught of the endless tide of invisible soldiers. While their ranks did not break or falter, it was clear that the Shepherd forces were in retreat. An organized retreat, but a retreat nonetheless.

Any onlooker would see the peril the Shepherds were now in. It was plain that they would surely be overrun. However, that opinion might change, Robin thought, if they were to see his expression at the moment.

_Just as I though. Arrogant, so sure of their numbers and power to not even consider that they'd walk into the same trap Morgan did,_ Robin mused, a confident smirk pulling at his lips. He was not usually one for gloating, but… well, when a plan had worked as perfectly as this, that was something he could help but celebrate.

_Let's see how they like a taste of their own medicine._

Robin thrust his hands upward, firing a ball of green flame into the sky. It burst high overhead, approximating the effect of the fireworks he'd seen in Chon'sin following the Valm war.

The landscape shifted to either side of the phantom arms. Pockets of bushes and grass had suddenly moved aside, revealing trenches and pits in the snow that had laid hidden from sight. From their hiding place sprung over three hundred of Ylisse's best soldiers, including the majority of the archers brought to the battle. Arrows whipped through the air, cutting into the mass of ghostly soldiers in a hail of fire. Footman formed ranks and charged, slamming into the enemy flanks before the phantoms could muster any sort of unified defense.

In that instant the enemy army's advance faltered. And that was all the Shepherds needed to turn the tide.

They dug in their heels, pushing back with such ferocity that the front lines of the enemy shattered, giving way like a wave crashing against a rocky shore. They fell back, forced inward on three sides until they were packed together, unable to maneuver or slip out from the net. Only those in the rear could withdraw, the rest hopelessly trapped under the Ylissean assault.

"Checkmate," Robin said aloud, a smile on his lips. The plan had worked even better than he'd expected it would, catching his foes completely unawares.

The day the Shepherds had set out, Robin had sent a full two-fifths of their army ahead with every horse and mule they could muster. With mounts they had been able to arrive at the battlefield more than a day earlier, even after leaving their beasts behind at a Feroxi town many miles back. These forces had been given additional food and furs to resist the cold, digging snow trenches covered in bushes or clumps of grass for them to hole up in until the battle began and the signal was given.

The plan had not been without cost. Many Ylissean soldiers had fallen in the fighting before the trap had been sprung. It had been necessary: in every other scenario Robin had considered the toll would have been far worse. Without a decisive turnabout the battle would have become one of attrition, something their foes had the advantage in. More would have died had he not gone with this plan.

But that didn't make it feel right. It didn't erase the guilt Robin felt for the part he had played in their deaths.

_This is war. You cannot save every last soldier. Focus in keeping those alive that you can._ It was an old argument, one that he'd told himself so many times before in battles past.

It rarely worked. But it at least let him shove the thought to the back of his mind. He could think about it later.

Robin nearly leapt out of his skin when a hand suddenly clasped his shoulder. He whirled around, going for his sword… then stopped as he was met by Chrom's smiling face.

"Good work, Robin. Looks like we have them in full retreat. What's our next move?" he asked, still grinning.

"We keep moving forward at our current pace. Too fast and we overextended ourselves. Save giving everything we have until we are closer to the rift: we will need one final push to clear the way," Robin answered.

Chrom nodded. "Right, I'll make sure the strike force is prepared.' He turned away, going to reign in the Shepherds who would be accompanying them through the portal and ensure they were close at hand.

"So, this is it, huh?"

Robin turned at the sound of his daughter's voice, watching as she and Marc jogged over to them.

"Yes. Soon enough we will depart. We're counting on you both to look after everyone in the meantime." Lucina stepped up next to him as he spoke, placing a hand on his forearm.

Marc dug the tip of his boot into the ground, gazing at both his parents with worry. "I… I want to ask that you promise to… come back. But… I…."

Robin froze, realizing what was bothering his son. In his home timeline, his mother, the Lucina who had traveled back to that world, had promised she'd come back when she left to face Grima. She hadn't kept that promise, and since then Marc had been left with a great fear of being abandoned by the people he cared for

Robin knelt next to his son, putting a hand on his shoulder. All around the battle raged on soldiers surging past as they chased the phantom legions ever passed. But all that had faded into the background, no longer seeming important.

"Marc, I promise I'll come back. This will not be like your world. I won't give up until we've kept my word," Robin told him, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

"As will I. We will return, even if we must fight through all of the outrealms to do it," Lucina agreed, kneeling before her children as well.

Marc slowly nodded, as did Morgan. "Alright. Just be safe. Please?" He pleaded.

"And promise to win, okay?" Morgan added, eyes moving over both Mother and Father, then back. "I know you two can. You are the strongest people I know. You can do anything."

Robin opened his mouth to say more. "I-"

Before he could continue there was a distant rumble, the ground beneath his feet shaking. He leapt up, whirling around. The ground shook again and Lucina stumbled, Robin stepping towards her to take her weight before she could fall.

In from of them the portal churned and crackled, spewing energy outwards. Before his eyes it began to open wider and wider. The earth beneath churned and groaned, splitting open as fresh magma spewed to the surface. A wave tore outwards, washing over the army. As it passed Robin felt it, a presence at the edge of his senses. Faint, but incredibly vast.

The earth shook with greater and greater fury, matched by the widening hole that bridged the two worlds.

From beyond the rippling surface Robin could see nothing but dark shapes as if glimpsed deep bellow a vast lake. Then twin points of firing light split the void.

* * *

**Character Spotlight:** Marc

**Class:** Great Lord

**Skills:** Aether, Ignis, Rightful King, Vantage, Aegis

**Personal Skill:** Magic Adept - When the user is a member of a class with more than one weapon proficiency that does not include Tomes, replace secondary weapon proficiency with Tomes and raise max magic stat by 5.

**Equipment** : Reborn Falchion (formerly the "Corrupted Falchion"), Noble Rapier, Thoron, Elwind, Arcfire.

**Skill Description** : Like his twin sister, Morgan, Marc was trained in in the use of both magic and swordplay by his parents. However, it quickly became apparent that his talents laid in the way of the blade after it was discovered his ability to wield Falchion.

Previously Marc utilized an aggressive and brutal fighting style during his time as Grima's servant in his own timeline. After leaving to join his sister in her adopted timeline and their alternate parents, Marc abandoned this method of fighting and return to the more elegant style his mother had taught him at a young age.

While Marc rarely uses magic as his chosen weapon, he is still a competent caster who favors lighting spells like his father. Whenever possible he uses his magic in combination with his sword skills, using quick spells to catch foes unaware, disrupt their attacks, or strike out at foes beyond the reach of his blade.


	12. Lost in the Tides

Robin could only stare as the portal rapidly grew in mass. The vortex widened, its rim expanding closer and closer towards the ground. The earth around it cracked and split, chunks of stone lifting to be drawn into the void. The energy that crackled around it burst and sparked with greater intensity, a testament to the colossal energies held within the spell frameform maintaining the inter-dimensional gateway.

"Robin, what's happening?!" Chrom shouted, running over to where the tactician stood gaping.

The words hit Robin like a slap, waking him from his daze. "I don't know! Whatever's on the other side is pouring more energy into the rift, trying to open it sooner. But that holds the risk of the whole thing collapsing on it, why would it risk…" Robin stopped dead mid sentence, cursing inwardly as it hit him."It must have figured out what we were planning! It's trying to enter the world before we can reach it, consequences be damned!"

Robin curled his hand into a fist, hammering it against his forehead as he desperately searched for a plan. It was no use, he'd counted on having more time than this! If they hurried, the the strike team could push ahead now and possibly make it in time. But that would leave them exposed, it would putting himself and his friends in incredible peril if anything were to go wrong..

But he was already asking them to take a huge risk. They all knew going it there was a chance none of the strike team would make it.

"Change of plans, we move forward now! Get the archers and spellcasters ready. We give them a volley and as soon as it hits we charge. While our forces engage the strike team makes a push for the portal," Robin instructed, speaking so quickly he barely paused to breath.

"Are you sure this will work?" Lucina asked, looking at him with evident uncertainty.

"No, but we don't have a choice," Robin answered.

"What about us, father?" Morgan asked, grabbing a handful of Robin's coat, turning him towards her with a quick tug. Marc was beside her in a moment, his hand on Falchion's hilt as he gazed at both his parents expectantly.

"You two stay here, I need you to take command of the rest of the army from here on out. It's your job to keep the enemy busy and off our tails for as long as possible," Robin told them.

"But it's too-" Morgan started to argue.

"This is not up for debate. We don't have time," Robin said. He put a hand on her forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Please, Morgan," he pleaded, peeling her hand from his coat.

"I… alright. Just... be careful," Morgan said. She dipped her chin in a nod of affirmation, the gesture seeming to be directed more at her own decision to relent to his command then to Robin himself. With that she turned to relay his orders to the rest of the army.

Marc lingered for a moment, eyes flickering between both his parents. "Be safe," he whispered, then he turned and darted towards his sister.

Sighing in relief, Robin turned back to the others. Frederick, Lissa, Lon'qu, Laurent, Kjelle, Stahl, and Cordelia were all there before him, ready to move on his and Chrom's command. Ahead the portal continued to grow, already double the size it had been at the start of the battle.

"Archers, ready!" Chrom shouted. The creaking of a hundred bows being pulled taut filled the air. For an instant the battle seemed to still, even as the Ylissean lines continued to strive against the scattered lines of phantom soldiers.

"Fire!"

Bowstrings twanged and arrows whistled through the air, falling like rain among the invisible warriors.

"Mages!" Robin bellowed. In unison the Shepherd spellcasters unleashed their most powerful spells, a sea of elemental magic smashing through the enemy's center. Robin thrust out his hand, a cry of 'Ignis' falling from his lips as a crimson bolt of lightning struck right at the arm's heart, obliterating a dozen of the ghostly swordsmen in a single instant.

"Charge!" Chrom commanded. With a chorus of battle cries the Shepherd led army surged forward, the ground thundering with their footsteps. Like a battering ram they slammed into the enemy center. Thinned and scattered by the hail of arrows and spells, the enemy lost what little cohesion they had left, scattering before their might. Swords, lances, and spells flashed, the Shepherds pushing the advance. To either side the Ylissean army slowed, engaging the foe hand to hand while the strike team continued forward, driving a wedge straight through to the heart.

With each step the enemy that moved before them grew thicker, until soon it seemed as though they waded through a sea of shadowed flame and glinting steel. Yet still the Shepherd team drove onward, felling any foe who dared block their path.

Frederick, Cordelia, and Stahl wheeled their mounts around in sweeping arcs, throwing aside enemy formations before they had a chance to close in. Meanwhile Laurent and Robin himself threw spell after spell into the foes directly head, seeking to carve a path that they may follow. Kjelle stood against their flank, effortlessly scattering foes who launched themselves at her, while Lon'qu cut down those that slipped through the others' efforts. At the center of the formation Lissa cast healing spells in quick succession, closing wounds as soon as they were dealt.

And at the the very front stood Chrom and Lucina, twin Falchions alight with power as they

cleaved through foe after foe. They moved as if in a dance, Lucina's quick and precise, Chrom's strong and direct. Against the light of the two holy blades the shadow cloaked phantom's seemed to shrink, their very might stripped away like night in the face of the rising sun.

_Boom._

The ground rumbled under Robin's feet. A roar drowned out the clash of weapons, joined an instant later by more cries. From the mass of phantoms rose twenty or more of the brutish undead they'd faced before, their faceless masks caked in dirt and rust. The ground shook as they lumbered towards them, the army around scattering to make way lest they be trampled under foot.

"Focus on the undead. Don't let them overwhelm us!" Robin shouted, his voice nearly drowned in the onslaught of cries emanating from the creatures' masks.

However, it seemed as though the others heard him, the Shepherds as one turning to face this new threat. A wall of blades and lances met the undead as they barreled forward, several impaling themselves as they drove forward in a mindless rage. Others made it further, engaging the Shepherds with every ounce of devastating power they possessed.

One of the monstrous brutes made a line straight for Robin, a roar echoing from within his mash as it threw its whole weight forward like a living battery ram.

Robin leapt out the way at the last instant, slashing at it's side as it barreled past him. The blade bit into bloated skin and muscle, coming away stained with slimy black icor.

The creature howled in pain as it spun around, recovering far quicker than Robin had anticipated. It was on him before he had a chance to follow up his attack, the undead swinging it's shackled arm down at him with speed that betrayed its bulk.

With movements driven entirely by reflex Robin threw himself into roll, the fists of the hulking monstrosity slamming down on the space he'd been an second before. Coming out of his tumble on the feet, Robin branched a hand against the ground to slow himself. He spun around even as he skidded to a stop, thrusting out his empty hand.

"Thoron!"

For an instant the silhouette of the undead shone black against the searing light of the lightning bolt. Then it seemed to bloat, it's body forced outward in all directions as it was burned away, consumed in a blink of an eye by the power Robin had unleashed. There was a flash of light and a thunderous boom. In it's wake charred wisps of ash drifted to the ground, all that remained of the undead creature.

Yet Robin had no time to celebrate his victory. Even as the undead fell he caught a glimpse of movement at the edge of sight. Leaping upright, he spun around, sword clashed against metal manacles. The force of the blow battered Robin's blade aside with enough force for it's tip to sink into the earth, nearly ripping it from his grasp. Even so he stumbled back from the impact, falling to one knee.

The faceless undead lunged again, both hands raised high as it prepared to bring them crashing down on the staggered tactician. With a cry he wrenched his blade free from the earth, throwing himself to the side even as he hacked at the thing's arm. A wet squelch filled the air, a bloated arm falling away, dangling from the manacles blinding it from it's still attached pair.

Regaining his footing Robin darted back to avoid a sweeping blow from the injured undead, the thing using it's own severed limb as a flail. On the back swing Robin brought his sword up at the last instant, entangling it in the chain. He yanked his arm back, pulling the chain taught even as he drew back his free hand, flames licking at his fingertips.

"Arcfire!"

A roaring torrent of flame engulfed the creature, putrid green flesh blackening and splitting as fire consumed it. The undead monster managed a single step before toppling to the ground, it's body melting into oily sludge that too began to slowly evaporate into smoke.

Clenching his hand closed to stifle to flow of flame, Robin turned his wrath upon the next undead he spied, this one already locked in a duel with Lucina. Aided by one of its brethren it fought the exalted lord two on one. She danced between clumsy blows, managing to keep her distance but unable to retaliate with any strikes of her own.

"Elthunder!" The burst of electricity caught the closest creature in the side, staggering it. This was all the opportunity Lucina need. Stepping in close she brought Falchion across in flowing series of slashes that cut through rotting flesh as easily as air. The undead fell with a gurgling cry, Lucina already spinning to face the other before it could even hit the ground.

"Left!" Robin called out, sprinting forward to meet the remaining undead. As he reached the spot Lucina stood she sprang forward as well, the two moving in step with one-another.

The faceless abomination roared, flashing out with shackled fists. In unison Robin and Lucina dodged to to either side, she taking left while he ducked right as per his signal. Blades flashed as the two cut at either ankle, taking the creature's legs out from under it. It toppled backward, bellowing in pain. Both swords fell again, intercepting it's fall to take the undead's head from it's bloated body.

Even with these victories the two had little time to rest as more undead charged their position, the ground trembling under their heavy footfalls.

All around the other Shepherds dueled faceless creatures of their own, felling undead after undead with swiftness born from experience gained in countless battles. Yet for every one of the abominations they struck down another immediately took its place. But from where they were coming from, Robin could not tell. By all appearances it seemed as though they were springing up from the very ground itself!

_They must be summoning them in. There must be a dozen sorcerers somewhere nearby. There'd have to be to bring these things in quickly enough to slow us down. But where?!_

"Chrom! Lucina! Keep them off me for one moment! I need to try something!" he shouted. A blast of electricity vanquished the undead closest to him, giving him the window he needed to leap back and disengage from the combat. Now he'd just need trust that they'd heard him,

Robin took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He reached out with his consciousness searching for the flow of magic that would be emanating from where the unseen dark mages were weaving their summoning spells.

 _Where is it, where is it, where is it?_ Robin delved further and further outward, scouring the surrounding area. The magical energies released by the portal were so massive, so overwhelming it was like searching for a candle flame held up against next to the sun. In his mind's eyes the portal seemed to be a open wound in the world itself, bleeding waves of blinding white that rippled outwards through reality, blanketing it in an ever shifting fog. Even in the ideal situation it would take him time to pick it out, time which he didn't have. Not only was he a sitting target for any foe who slipped past the others, any further delay could cost them dearly.

 _Don't panic, you've been through worse. Focus…. Focus…_ He allowed himself to slow his efforts, passing over each section of ground more carefully. _Wait, what was that?_ He recentered on the spot he'd searched but moments before. There, amongst the constant flow of magic he felt it, a discordant note amongst the hum of the portal's energy. As his mind touched the magic he could not help but recoil away. It felt foul, both oily and sticky at the same time.. It felt only as the most vile of dark magic felt: rotten and unclean.

At once his eyes snapped open, focusing on the spot he'd sensed. While he could not see the spellcasters through the turmoil of the battle, he now knew with certainty where they were. He had to act quickly, neutralize the threat before they could summon more undead beasts to bar their way.

"Laurent! Focus fire to our right, clear a path! Everyone else move in: Chrom, Frederick, Kjelle guard our flank, keep those undead off us! Lucina, Lon'qu, Stahl, Cordelia, with me!"

Lighting burst from Robin's open palm, scattering the lines of phantoms between him and the the sorcerers. An instant later a gout of flame ripped through the opening, spreading outward to further drive it wide open. In rode Stahl and Cordelia, each driving at one side to cleave through foes one after another. Through the center Robin charged, Lucina and Lon'qu at his flanks.

Suddenly the air around them popped, like the discharge of static. A vortex of purple mist appeared around them, circling inward in a spell Robin recognized from his encounter weeks before at Corgrove.

"Down!"

Robin acted at once, drawing in his power and unleashing a funnel of wind to draw in the vapors directed at them and blew them out as far away as he could. Even as he pushed them clear they still began to coalesce, as if drawn together by an unseen force his own spell could not counter. Robin threw himself onto the ground, covering his face with an arm There was a flash of violet light as the spell detonated, sending a wave of force rolling outward washed overhead, passing harmlessly past before dissipating entirely.

Robin came out of his fall in a roll, landing back on his feet and lunging forward through the fading cloud of dust thrown skyward by the spell. He skidded to a stop, coming face to face with thirteen figures wreathed in crimson flame. As their forms shifted and flickered he caught a glimpse of black and purple robes, feathered capes trailing behind as they channeled magic into a center point.

"Thoron!" The bolt of lightning leapt from Robin's hands, catching a trio of sorcerers unaware. So engrossed by their spellwork, they failed to put up any sort of defense, the blast hitting them with enough force to throw them back. The others reacted then, turning just in time to see their doom fall upon them. Swords and lances shone as the dark mages fell one after another under the Shepherd's onslaught, many vanquished with such swiftness that they disintegrated into violet smoke before they'd even hit the ground.

One of the sorcerers however was ready, the same one who had launched the devastating spell an instant before. For a split second Robin saw robes more ornate than the other dark mages through the mirage-like shadows that cloaked the figure. The garments were the identical to those worn by the phantom he'd fought in the woods, just as the spell he'd cast had been the same.

_Are they the same person?! But I killed him? Or at least I thought I had!_

Before he could ponder it any further the sorcerer lashed out, dark vapor rushing from his hand towards Robin.

"Arcthunder!" The spells met in the center, exploding in a burst of light. The shock wave slammed into Robin, the force staggering him with it's weight. Just as he was about to right himself he slipped, a loose rock giving way under his foot.

A cackling laugh fell from the sorcerer's throat, the sound distorted and muffled by whatever spell hid him from sight. There was second burst of light and all Robin could do was scramble out of the way as a burst of prismatic fire detonated in the spot he'd been an instant before. The edge of the attack hit him square in the back, throwing him face first to the ground. Pain blossomed, both from the magical flames and from the impact with the cracked and scorched earth. Stars flashed before his vision and he tasted copper.

Groaning Robin lifted his head. He coughed twice, spitting a wad of blood. He tasted copper, the inside of his mouth bleeding from when he hit the ground.

"Robin!" He heard Lucina scream. Out of the corner of his eye he saw him wife rushing towards him, Falchion drawn.

The sorcerer turned to face her, giving Robin a split second to act. He shoved himself upright, staggering as righted himself. He drew a hand back, preparing to launch a spell of his own.

A wave of darkness struck out from the Sorcerer's hands towards Lucina. She rolled aside at the last second, only to be caught in the burst of energy unleashed as the spell detonated, the force tossing her to the ground. The edge of the blast caught Robin as well, toppling him before he could fully regain his balance. His head struck a rock and again light flashed before his eyes.

As his vision returned he found himself staring up at the phantom sorcerer. It's burning violet eyes shone with cruel glee as it drew its hands back, dark magic flowing from its fingertips as it prepared to deliver the killing blow. The sorcerer laughed, drunk on his own apparent victory

"What are you laughing at?" Robin asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

All at once the laughter stopped, the sorcerer's eyes going wide an instant before a spear-like lance of thunder slammed into his chest, piercing straight through the phantom's heart. Shock played across the the sorcerer's face as he toppled, landing face first on the rocky earth. Within seconds he had faded away into violet smoke, leaving nothing nothing behind.

 _Bad guys letting their guards down… seriously, you'd think one of them would realize gloating in the middle of a fight was a bad idea._ Not that he could complain, the pause had given him enough time to form a condensed bolt of electricity. The technique was deadly, but could only be used at close range. It was something he'd learned from the memories imparted by his Grima controlled future self, who had used the same spell to kill the Chrom of that time. As distasteful as it was, the effectiveness could not be discounted.

 _Now, I'd like to see that dastard try to come back from that one,_ Robin thought, dragging himself upright.

"Robin, are you alright?" Lucina asked, rushing to his side. At once he saw she had fared far worse from the spell. Where he himself has been a bit banged and bruised up, Lucina moved with a visible limp, and blood was visible on one of her arms. While not life threatening the injuries would definitely slaw her down until she got some healing.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Robin said, accepting her offered hand. With her help he quickly pulled himself the rest of the way onto his feet. The instant he was back up their eyes met and they gave each other a quick nod, before spinning away, throwing themselves straight back into the heat of battle once more. Ghostly swordsmen and knights charged in to meet them in a clash of ringing steel and dancing blades.

Even with the sorcerers vanquished and the tide of faceless undead stifled, the situation was still dire. The delay had cost the Sheph erds all momentum. The remaining phantoms had closed in, joining the few remaining hulking undead to attack the small group on all sides. Gone was all careful purpose and fluidity their foes had possessed before, instead throwing themselves at the Shepherds in an reckless abandon born of desperation. It seemed as though all considerations of victory had vanished, the force commanding them unleashing all his remaining forces on the field with one goal: to keep the Shepherds at bay as long as possible. They moved with all the fury of a storm-tossed sea, churning at all sides in a ceaseless torrent.

"Keep formation, we need to advance!" Chrom bellowed. Even as the words left his mouth the Exalt leapt forward, Falchion flashing gold as it cleaved through two phantoms in a single blow. Stepping forward to follow the momentum of the blow he whipped the holy blade around over his head, bringing it down in a vertical slash that buried itself deep into the chest of a phantom knight, cutting through plate armor as if it was made of nothing more than cloth and hide instead of tempered steel.

"There are too many behind us. If we turn to advance our flank will be left wide open!" Lucina warned.

Robin followed her gaze, seeing her words were no mistake. Kjelle, Laurent, Lon'qu, and Cordelia were all struggling against foes harring them from the rear, barely able to hold against the tide of mirage warriors. With each passing second more Phantoms threw themselves in, swarming on all fronts, until soon it was all the Shepherds could do but keep them at bay. They were trapped! Surrounded with no hope of breaking through.

Ahead the portal continued to grow.. Nearly a quarter of the vortex rimmed void could no longer be seen, having expanded to such an extent that it had scoured a gaping ravine through the earth to accommodate its magnitude. Chunks of stone, glowing orange from the heat of the energies stripping them from the depths, drifted up into the rift to be pulverized to dust by the storm raging around it.

Panic seized Robin's heart. He redoubled his efforts, lashing out at foe after foe with renewed fury. But it was no use! There were simply too many!

_We're running out of time! We won't be able to make it!_

"Bolganone!"

The air ahead of Robin shimmered, an instant before the space detonated in a fountain of flame and molten earth. The spell utterly obliterated the phantoms, reducing them to smoke in a single instant.

_Wait, who was that? It sounded like-_

Robin whirled around just in time to see Morgan charge over the ridge, behind her all of the remaining Shepherds who'd remain with the rest of the Ylissean army at her rear. Like a battering ram they slammed into the enemy rear, shattering them like brittle iron under the blow of a hammer.

Besides her was Marc, his Falchion wreathed in white flames that burned away the shadows of each foe he struck, banishing them to dust. Overhead Cynthia, Sumia, Gerome, Cherche, Nowi and Nah wheeled about, raining down spears, axes, and dragonfire upon the heads of the enemy.

"Morgan! I thought I told you to stay back!" Robin shouted, turning to face his daughter as she sprinted towards him and the others with him, joining the fray.

"And let you get overrun? I don't think so! I'm not going to stand by when I have a chance to help this time," she countered. "Besides, you told me it was my job to keep these bozos off your back, so that's what I'm doing!"

The firmness of her voice and the confidence that she spoke those words gave Robin pause. Since Morgan's last mission a part of him had worried that her confidence would still be shaken, but here… here Morgan had taken the initiative without hesitation and commanded Shepherds both young and old to follow her without question.

Fighting for their lives be damned, he couldn't help but take a moment to be proud of her.

"I understand. Thank you.!" He said, conceding her point.

"Then what are you waiting for, Father? Hurry! We'll keep these ones busy!" Morgan told him, flailing a hand in the direction of the portal.

"Right" Robin dipped his head in a sharp nod. That was something they both could agree on.

Spinning away he sprinted back to join the strike force. The arrival of the other Shepherds had provided them with a second wind. Now that they no longer had to fend off attacks from behind their full might could be turned forward. With renewed vigor they drove forward once more, smashing through the enemies before them with the ferocity of their combined assault.

Step by step they advanced, scattering any foe who dared get in their way. The portal loomed ahead, growing in the sky before them, drawing ever nearer. Lightning crackled and flashed around it, close enough to be heard as deafening booms that mixed with the ever present thrum of power.

Soon the enemy before them began to thin, fewer and fewer phantoms throwing themselves at the Shepherds. It almost seemed as though they had given up or at least had spent everything at their disposal. Perhaps the worse was already past.

 _No, it's never that easy,_ Robin mused, frowning. _They have one last trick up their sleeves. I can feel it._ Even if he gut instinct proved unfounded, he would not let his guard down. Not for one moment. It was far too easy to assume victory was already in their grasp, meaning he could not allow himself to think that way. Start thinking that and you make mistakes.

A rush of air washed over them, gentle like the shifting breeze. It felt cold, like wind carried from an icy sea. No, not just cold, it felt… dark. There was no other way to explain it. The air carried with it the sense of a great abyss looming before them, so great that a shiver of fear ran down his spine. The hairs of the back of his neck stood on end, his nerves tingling with the feeling of a thousand pinpricks against his skin.

Before his eyes a shadow took shape before the portal, spreading outwards to coalesce into humanoid shapes that stood at attention in tight formations. Slowly, ever so slowly they began to glow, embers of light igniting around them, growing into purple flames that outlined their mirage-like forms. As their bodies danced in and out of focus Robin saw knights and swordsmen in armor far more ornate than the rank and fodder that they faced on the battlefield. No two was alike- each had armor tailored to the individual soldier, each possessing their own heraldry or battle standards. At once Robin realized what this meant. These were the elite warriors, for only high ranking soldiers would possess such unique markings.

_So this is their final contingency. They saved their most skilled fighters for the last line of defense before the gateway._

Within seconds the Shepherds crossed the remaining distance, meeting with the elite soldiers in an explosion of ringing blades and erupting chaos. Time was against them now, no more defensive lines or fancy maneuvering. Now it was an all or nothing push to break through.

At the center of it all Robin and Lucina moved together, weaving a hurricane of death upon any who dared step into their path. Through blade and spell they dropped knight after knight, swordsman after swordsman, mage and mage. Further they advanced, each step barred by another powerful foe desperate to slow their charge.

Three generals in heavy plate armor lumbered towards the duo, weapons glinting with a menacing light. Lucina lunged forward to meet them, deflecting a lance with a two handed sword strike, before dancing back out of range to avoid the sweeping axe blows from the flanking plate-clad foes. Digging in her heels, she shifting into a low stance, deftly ducking under the next spear thrust.

With perfect timing Robin leapt into action. He'd used the scant few seconds Lucina had bought him through engaging the knights head on to recover some of his strength. Sparks rained from his fingertips as his drew his hand back, a multi-pronged blast of lightning striking forth to smite the heavily armored foes. The spell traveled over Lucina's head, spreading outward to hit each of the three generals. For all the protection their plate provided, it was worse than useless against lightning. The spell spread through the metal plates, electrocuting the three where they stood. Violet smoke curled from within their armor before it too dissolved away, scattering like ash in the wind.

In the instant the knights vanished Lucina threw herself into motion, sailing forward in a diving roll to pass under the readied blades of two swordmasters. She came out of the roll in a low crouch, pivoting on her heels to whirl around, Falchion taking the legs out from under one of the swordsmen. The other continued to charge, and Robin stepped forward to parry the incoming strike. Even as he deflected the blow aside he thrust his hand forward, a blast of fire catching the phantom in the face. The ghostly swordmaster reeled back, ornate helm smoldering, its enraged cry cut short as Robin drove the tip of his sword through the phantom's chest.

Yet still the mass of elite foes pressed the attack, fighting with a tenacity unseen even in the almost unquestioned autonomy seen in the actions of every member of the phantom army. Even as Robin moved to engage his next foes a duo of great knights charged his and Lucina's position, forcing them both to leap to either side lest they be trampled under the armored steeds. Swordmasters, Spearmen, Generals, and Heroes alike rushed in to fill the gap, forcing the two of them to engage separate struggles to push forward.

Spell after spell fell from Robin's lips as he smashed aside foes left and right with flashes of magical power, pausing only to strike down any foes who made it within reach of his blade. Somewhere nearby Lucina also battled multiple foes, but beyond the sound of Falchion sundering lesser blade after lesser blad, he could not tell her progress. Even a second glance her way could prove fatal.

"Thoron!" Another blast of thunder caught two foes at once, obliterating the closest outright and sending the other falling back in a smoldering wreck. Robin swayed where he stood, for a single instant overcome by a wave of vertigo. His head throbbed and his arm felt leaden as he barely brought it up in time to block an overhead strike aimed by the only phantom still close at hand. Blow after blow Robin barely managed to keep up, at long last the long hours of fighting taking it's toll.

He weaved back, narrowly avoiding another slash, the tip of his foe's sword bouncing of his chestplate. Gripping his sword with both hands he deflected the next blow as quickly as he could, trying to create an opening. Normally he would have gone for his magic, but as quickly as exhaustion had begun to take him he could not afford to waste anymore energy if he could help it. Two more blows he blocked, closing in on the second parry. He locked blades, holding the foe's sword out to the side as he brought his knee up, staggering the phantom with a strike to stomach. He brought his arm up, smashing the pommel of his blade into the swordmaster's face before he could recover. Stunned by the blow the ghostly fighter was too slow to recover, remaining wide open for a split second Robin needed to brought his sword the bear and drive it's trip through the phantom's heart.

Painting, Robin yanked his blade free of the swordsman. He turned to look back at the others. All around the Shepherds battled against the tide of the phantom army's most skilled warriors, their efforts having them spread out across the plains before the rift. No longer were these conflicts one of two forces but rather a multitude of smaller duels as both sides had lost all semblance of formation. Even as ghostly knights and swordsmen alike fell in great number, they were still holding on, forcing the Shepherds to struggle for each inch of ground.

"Everyone, regroup at my position!" Robin shouted, calling out to the others. "We're almost there, we just need to-"

A warbling boom, like the thrumming of a great instrument filled the air. The ground shook, so violently that Robin was nearly thrown from his feet. Staggering, Robin flailed as he attempted to keep his balance, his attention drawn to the rift.

Before his eyes the heart of the rift began to glow, rapid flashes of light sparkling and bursting from within. For an instant panic seized Robin, for it seemed that the portal had opened wide enough for it's creator to pass through. But no, something wasn't right. The multitude of tiny explosions continued, spreading outward towards the gateway's rim. It's surface began to churn and ripple, the surrounding vortex spewing gouts of crackling energy out in all directions. It seemed as though the portal was tearing itself apart, leaking the frightening power barely contained within.

_What was going on? Why was it-_

Robin stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening as he realized what was going on.

_It knows it can't get through the portal in time. We'll reach it before it's stable. It knows that, knows it pointless to continue. So it's closing it! It's shutting the rift before we can use it!_

If that happened the entity behind the attacks could try again in the future, armed with the knowledge of what the Shepherds were trying to do. For them there would be no next time, no opportunity to use the enemy's own portals as a gateway into it's world.

Robin whirled around, frantically searching for each member of the strike force amongst the chaotic melee raging around them. All of them were still scattered across the battlefield, caught up within the final wave of phantom defenders. Even Chrom was far behind, dueling three phantom swordsman at once. Meanwhile Lucina, who had been with him but moments before was now several yards away, slowed by encircling foes even as she raced towards him.

Even as they all pushed forward, struggling with all their might to reach the rift, Robin at once recognized the peril. _It's not enough… they won't make it in time._

He spun on his heels, looking back at the portal. He was the closest, the only one who could reach it before he collapsed.

In the moment he knew what he had to do.

"Thoron!"

Any thought of conserving energy was lost now. He drew on everything now, a blast a lightning slamming into the line of knight that moved to block his way, the heavily armored phantoms falling in smolder heaps. Robin leapt forward, sprinting across the cracked earth. More moved to stop him, only to be thrown aside by a wave of wind that leapt from his fingertips.

He only had seconds before the portal was closed, time he had only because of the enemy's own action. So much power had been put into the stabilization of the rift that it would take time to tear those supports down. Enough time for one final chance.

He bounded forward clearing the last few feet between him and the outcropping of earth that stretched out towards the gaping maw of the portal. He skidded to a stop teetering on the edge before regaining his footing. Before him the gateway between worlds was a sea of black, it's rim stripping away chunks of stone from the ravine it had scoured in the earth. Below molten magma glowed with fiery light, mixing with the flickering violet that swirled around the void to cast an unnatural pallor over the world

Reaching out with his mind, Robin found the fading weave of spells holding the portal open. He seized upon it, throwing his own will into it, pouring his own power into the net. Threads snapped under the strain, reality buckling back against the weakening portal, forcing Robin to frantically weave strands of his own to replace each that broke.

His legs buckled and he fell to one knee. His chest burned as if it was on fire, the strain of maintaining such a powerful spell pushing him to his limits and beyond. His head throbbed, feeling as though his skull at been split by a hot iron.

_I have to hold… have to keep it open… have...to… buy… time…_

Through blurry vision he glimpsed the Shepherds pushing towards the rift, so close yet so far away. He wasn't sure if he could hold it long enough. He was so tired, he'd already given everything. But he had to. Had to keep going.

Then he felt it. The same presence he had felt before. Cold, dark, born of the icy depths of a sunless sea. In an instant it rushed to engulf him, obliterating all other sensation.

In his mind's eye he stood face to face in a sea of black. Before him loomed a ghostly white mask eyes burning with a fell light that pierced deep into his soul.

_A worthy effort… but futile._

In a single instant the agony Robin had felt a moment before returned, only now tenfold. The presence smashed against the supports, washing them aside as easily as wooden huts swallowed by a tidal wave. The ground cracked under Robin's feet, chunks of stone swallowed by the rift as it tore itself apart.

_No…_

It was collapsing too quickly now. It would detonate just like the one Morgan closed had done and it would destroy everything caught too close. Everyone…

"Get back! Everyone, get away!" Robin screamed, letting his agony fuel one final warning to his friends.

He threw every last ounce of strength he had and more into the portal. He had to delay it, if he didn't they would all die.

Agony beyond anything he had ever felt before washed over him. It felt as if his very soul was on fire, burning him alive from the inside out. He couldn't move. He couldn't breath. He couldn't think.

He was going to die.

The single thought echoed in his mind, slipping through the haze of pain.

He was going to die. He wasn't going to survive this.

Memories flashed through his mind. He thought of Lucina, of every memory they'd shared. Of his children, of the Morgan and Marc who had come from another timeline. Of the two infants back at home, who would grow up never knowing their father.

He remembered the day they were born and how happy he'd felt. He thought of all of the moments he'd hoped to have. Watching their first steps. Teaching them to read and write. Seeing them grow up happy in a peaceful world. Every one of their birthdays, every celebration. Everything he would no longer have a chance to see.

_I'm sorry…_

"Robin!"

His eyes snapped open. Through vision blurred by pain he glimpsed Lucina running towards him, hand outstretched. She hadn't tried to get away. She hadn't saved herself like he'd screamed

 _No… Lucina… get back…_ He tried to form the words but found he could not. He didn't have the strength left.

Their eyes met. For an instant time seemed to stop. In Lucina's eyes he saw fear and desperation, not for herself, but for him. She didn't care if she died… her only thought was to save him.

She wouldn't leave him. Not now, not ever.

"Lu...ci...na…" Robin lifted a hand, reaching out for her.

The beat of his heart hammered once in his ears.

Lucina bounded forward another step.

Another heartbeat.

Lucina lunged forward, her hand reaching out for his.

At that moment the spell gave way. For an instant all was silent. Then, the portal detonated in a blinding flash of light.

The last thing Robin saw was Lucina's face.

Then nothing

. . . . .

The blast from the portal radiated outward, consuming everything that lay in it's path.

"Back! Everyone back!" Morgan screamed, urging the Ylissean forces to retreat. On and on the wave of every rolled, swallowing the phantoms under the ceaseless tide.

Then the ground stopped shaking, the explosion fading away until not but a smoking crater was left in it's wake.

Morgan fell to her knees, panting and gasping for air. They'd done it, they'd gotten clear…

Looking up, she surveyed the carnage. Of the seven hundred-fifty Ylissean soldiers who had accompanied them, less than five hundred remained. However, none had fallen in the explosion, their lines far enough away to pull out in time. The same could not be said for the invisible soldiers, for not a single one of the phantoms could be seen upon the field.

 _What happened_ _to Mother and Father? What happened to the strike team?_

Scrambling to her feet, Morgan searched the battlefield for any sign of them. Had they made it through the portal before it collapsed? Or had they been forced to fall back? And if so, had they gotten far enough away?

"Morgan, over there!" Marc shouted.

Morgan's gazed followed to where her brother was pointing. There! She spied a small group of people on a hilltop not far away. Without waiting for the army she sprinted ahead, praying that it was the members of the strike team. She practically scrambled on all fours as she ascended to the top. Mounting the crest she spied her grandfather, then Laurent. He must have teleported them away.

Then she froze, the momentary relief vanished. Where was her mother and father? All of the other members of the strike force was there but them. Where could they-

"Where are they? Morgan asked, her voice faint.

She could only stare as her grandfather turned to look at her sadly. "Morgan, I… I don't know. Your father reached to portal but… he and your mother were there when it went. I don't know if they made it through or…"

The world stopped. Her grandfather's words echoed in her mind. The blood in her veins went cold, and for a moment even the beating of her heart seemed to halt.

Morgan felt her knees buckle. Before she should hit the ground she felt hands catch her. From the corner of her eyes she saw it was Marc, her brother slowly lowering the both of them onto the ground. He was crying and then she realized so was she.

_Mother… Father…_

They were gone. She couldn't even mourn them. She didn't know if they were alive or dead. All she knew is that they were gone, leaving not a trace behind.

They had vanished beneath the tides.


	13. Epilogue

"Again."

A translucent hand wreathed in dancing shadows passed through the orb of water hovering before him, scattering it to mist that quickly reconstituted into a new sphere. For a moment it glowed with a cold light, the surface becoming clear to reveal the scene playing out in the water's depths. The figured watched the battle play out before him once more. His Invisible Soldiers spreading like an oncoming tide, washing aside the Ylissean forces arrayed against him. The trap being sprung, turning the battle against him. The desperate delaying actions of his army to hold long enough for him to enter that world. Naga's champions pushing through it all until they were nearly upon the Gateway. The final moments as he tore his own magic apart, the Tactician's futile attempts to stall the collapse. The time traveler's frantic attempt to reach him. A blinding flash of light, consuming all sight in a sea of white.

A snarl fell from the hooded depths of the figure's hood. He lashed out with a single hand, his curled fingers coming an inch from the water's surface. A ripple ran through the orb as the magic keeping it's shape faded, the water splashing back into the pool of water at the center of the terrace he stood upon.

With it's glow extinguished the room grew dark, the only light remaining coming from the brasiers at the chamber's edge burning with dim, violet flames.

_The tactician…_

He had underestimated his resourcefulness and daring: even in his wildest imaginations he had never thought that the former vessel of Grima would be bold enough to enter _his_ world through one of the very gateways he'd created. So too had he proved far more formidable on the battlefield than expected, besting his forces despite his greater numbers. So great was the victory against his phantom armies that he had been forced to abandon his own plans and turn to the defense of his own world

Rage flared inside of him at the very thought of it. How had this mortal managed to best _him_? He was a god! This insect was nothing before him!

Shadows seemed to pool around him, spreading outwards in rippling waves. The pool of water at his feet began to churn and bubble, spilling over the lip of the terrace. The violet flames in brasiers at the edge of the chamber dimmed as they flickered and died, smothered by an unseen force that pushed ever outward.

Then the water stilled once more, the smoldering embers reigniting to once again bath the chamber in a pale were-light. The shadows receded back into the figure and all was calm once more.

No… he could not afford for mindless rage. Despite the circumstances, this was yet still a partial victory. Even if his invasion had been foiled, so too had the foolish gambit of his foes been stopped. Now that he knew what they were attempting to accomplish he could see to it that such an attempt never again be met by anything other than failure. Furthermore, the very fact that Naga's champions had undertaken such a desperate plan proved that the she lacked the strength to breach the barriers between dimensions and send forces of her own into his world and time. He could now safely turn his attention to more pressing matters without fear of interference from Naga's world. Afterall, he now knew he could deal with them at his leasure.

And yet…

The figure extended a translucent hand over the pool. It's surface bubbled, drawing forth a mist that rose up into the air, swirling together into a vortex that coalesced into another sphere of water. The inky liquid shone a cold, dark violet, turning clear as the light faded. In it's center the final moments of the battle played out before him. The tactician rushing to the portal. His attempts to halt its collapse. The time traveler reaching out to him. The wave of energy rushing outward as the Gateway obliterated itself, swallowing them both.

"Again." He swiped his hand through the orb, scattering it and reforming it once more. The scene played out before him once more. Time and time again he let it play, scouring it for every detail. After four more times through he paused it, the image holding on the final moment of the scene. For several moment he stared at this instant frozen in time, puzzling the mystery it provided.

"What happened…" he hissed, his words echoing unnaturally loud in the empty chamber. By all appearances the two had been destroyed. There had been nothing of them left. Even now he felt nothing of them within that world. If they had somehow survived, he would be able to sense them there. The souls of the dead were his to command, yet... Even if his portal had been in the middle of collapse as they died, the way had still been open in that moment: he should have felt their souls as they passed. They should be his! Already he counted the Ylissean soldiers who had died in the battle among the invisible phantoms that made up his army. Why then had he sensed nothing of them in that moment. How had they died without becoming his.

Unless…

His eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting into a snarl as realization crept into place. He clawed at the orb, reforming it a quickly as he could. When it took shape once more the image inside showed not the battlefield, but the present. Of a place so close to where he was now yet far away...

His eyes widened.

_How…?_

_How had this slipped past his sight?_

It made so much more sense. Why he hadn't felt their passing. Why he could not sense them in their own world.

They were alive! And somehow, in those final moments, they had been thrust into his world.

_They were here._

_In Valla._

For a long moment the figure stood motionless, processing this revelation. The briefest flash of anger flashed up in him, tinged with something he had not felt in a long while.

_Fear._

He squelched this feeling at once, burying it deep inside. As he did so an idea occurred to him, one that brought a smile to his lips. Why after all should he be displeased with this outcome or afraid. For even here what harm could these two cause him on their own? No… he should be pleased, for the unexpected turn of events provided an opportunity. Now that they were here, those two could put them to use. For why directly deal with the insects arrayed against himself, when it was all too easy to pit these foolish mortals against each other. For they were all alone, trapped in a world that danced on strings held at his fingertips.

With a widening grin the dragon Anankos turned away. The orb of water fell away, sinking into the pool at his feet. His laughter filled the chamber as the light was blotted out, plunging it into darkness

**. . . . .**

Far away an island drifted through a sea of mist, an orange haze hanging over the world. Here and there distant shadows moved, other chunks of land floating in an endless sky. The wind picked up, the fog shifted and swirled, revealing green grass dotted with the crumbling ruins of once great building. Shafts of light shot through the breaks in the mist, glittering for the briefest of minutes on mirror stone before fading away once again.

A soft breeze washed over the land, the tall grass swaying gently with it's passing. There, in the center of the crumbling remains of a ring of long abandoned buildings lay the shape of a man. His stark white hair waved gently in the wind, his coat set with plegian symbols spilling out beneath him. His eyes were closed and his body still, appearing to the world dead if not for the rise and fall of his chest.

Then suddenly his hand twitched, a faint groan little more than a whisper of breath fell from his lips. His eyelids fluttered as he began to stir.

Then he began to open his eyes.


End file.
